


Lay Me Down

by goodwineandcheese



Category: Monster
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Political Thriller, Possible Sexual Abuse (Discussed), Post-Canon, There are a lot of ugly topics in this fic, psychological abuse, recovery fic, see notes for details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodwineandcheese/pseuds/goodwineandcheese
Summary: After another memory resurfaces, Tenma promises to help Grimmer recover what he lost. However, the journey through his past is a painful one; the further they sink into the dark, the greater its hold becomes. What's done is done; all they can do now is wade forward through murky memories and piece Grimmer back together.
Relationships: Kenzou Tenma & Rudi Gillen, Wolfgang Grimmer/Tenma Kenzou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. Behrman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with more writing about Grimmer's past, because of course I am. This time though with the intent of going into more depth as to his actual experiences in Kinderheim. I was inspired by the concept of Grimmer maybe seeing someone nefarious from back in Kinderheim and it sets him on a journey to learn what happened there...with Tenma there to support him of course. In the past I've touched on Kinderheim, but usually only in light ways used just to complement some hopeful end realization; with this fic I want to go a little deeper, a little more into what Kinderheim was doing. I'll be basing a lot of it on what I've seen in popular headcanons as well as some of my own ideas.
> 
> There will be discussions of very heavy topics in varying degrees of abuse, including the possibility of sexual abuse. Everything will be tagged chapter to chapter so you know what's coming. That said, I also don't intend to "canonize" everything explored in the fic; even in an AU setting I don't feel comfortable going "yes this definitely happened" unless I feel there's enough evidence in canon to point to it. Many issues will be _discussed_ , within a hypothetical sense, but may not be directly confirmed. As these are such sensitive topics, I hope to treat the subject matter delicately and respectfully. 
> 
> With that disclaimer out of the way; this fic is set some time after Monster, and incorporates bits from Another Monster as well. It's not necessary to know anything about AM, it'll just give you a few continuity nods.

“That should be all now, everything we were able to seize.”

Grimmer sounded cheerful as he let himself in. He heaved a medium-sized box onto the table, huffing as he brought his arms across his chest, looking at the pile of documentation that now completely covered the hotel room floor and the two boxes that sat atop the small, unsteady table. He shook his head, crossing over to the nearby armchair and allowed his body to fold itself lazily backward into the seat, rocking slightly from the sudden backward force.

“It’s hard to imagine that there was still this much. And there might be more, waiting to be found. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, without you.”

Tenma glanced up from where he had been sorting through a few piles of folders and papers and smiled, shaking his head.

“No, you would have done it. It just might have taken a little longer.”

The fact was it had taken the two of them nearly half a year to collect all of what they had now. Of course, it hadn’t just been them; Suk, Lunge, and even that detective Weber had significantly sped their efforts to trace backwards through Kinderheim’s shadowed paper trail. Any and everything they could find. Photographs of employees, lists, videotapes, contracts and agreements, journals, news clippings…it didn’t matter what it was; anything could help them piece together what was there. And through the narrative they uncovered, perhaps they could learn more about just who Wolfgang Grimmer really was.

Grimmer had come to a point where he accepted his new self – who he was now, compared to what that facility had shaped him into. He had grown out of that mold and become a new person, but even so…it was his right to know the truth. And even if he seemed content, Tenma knew that, underneath, he _did_ want to know. If nothing else, his name…just that would be enough.

He heard rustling, followed by an airy sigh.

“You know, I think now is a good time to take a break. You’ve been doing that for hours…”

Tenma glanced up, blinking toward the relaxed voice. Grimmer seemed happy to just sit there as he was, with his head back and his eyes closed. A smile quirked playfully at his lips. “It won’t be going anywhere. But you’ll tire yourself out like that.”

His tone was gentle, but there was a light accusation there, and one that Tenma couldn’t very well refute, either. More than once he’d woken from an unintended nap to the feeling of a sweater or coat thrown over him as he lay at the table with his face in a book or journal and a cold cup of coffee at his side.

Tenma heaved a sigh and nodded in resignation, sitting back and looking across the floor with a furrowed brow.

“Even so, it’s a bit of a mess like this…”

Grimmer hummed, but didn’t seem entirely bothered. “You were too bold, trying to organize it all at once. And the other rooms available were even smaller than this one…there’s not really a lot of room to store everything. And I’m not sure it’s wise to leave it in the care of anyone else, though I know that old schoolmate of yours had offered…”

Gillen. He and Grimmer had only really met in passing, only a couple of times. Both were more solitary individuals in their own ways, and with Gillen busy writing his book, there simply hadn’t been any time to properly acquaint them. Tenma could tell that there was at least a little apprehension surrounding him, though in fairness he imagined that Grimmer would be just as wary to entrust sensitive documents into the hands of even agent Suk.

It was something he could understand; even though the threat seemed to be dead, there was no telling just how deep the roots of Kinderheim had been planted. That it was tied to the Czech Secret Police at all made it inherently dangerous, and there was no telling who else had held their sights on Kinderheim. If word got out that they were uncovering anything, whoever was in possession of those documents would be in danger. That hadn't changed, even with Johan out of commission.

Unfortunately, it meant they were left with this small room; and in his brashness, Tenma had hoped to sort through all of their findings in a single day - the result of which was, now, to be sat in the middle of a nearly entirely paper-and-folder covered floor.

Tenma sighed, slowly getting to his feet and half-stumbling when his legs decided to take a gelatinous form, wobbling unsteadily from a lack of use. He braced a hand against the nearest furniture, steadying himself against the corner table as his legs attempted to right themselves. There was an unhelpful chuckle from Tenma’s left, by the armchair, and he huffed.

“You should’ve taken a break sooner. Then that wouldn’t have happened.”

He was right, and that made it just a little more embarrassing. As a doctor, theoretically he would know better. But then, Tenma was well enough known for his tendency to forget himself. He sighed, carding fingers through his hair as he managed to get himself steadied.

“At least help me set the rest aside. Just don’t touch what’s behind me. Those have all been sorted, and I’d like to keep it that way so we can really keep track…”

Grimmer looked his way, nodding as he slowly pulled himself from the armchair, bending down into a crouch as he started to collect up some of the remnants from Tenma’s sorting extravaganza. It was a bit troublesome that nothing they found seemed to have any sort of chronology to it, they had to do all the hard work once the data was compiled. But, even if it was tedious, it was at least relaxing work.

Tenma set about shuffling papers and folders into stacks to be dealt with later, but stopped when he felt a light tap at his shoulder, blinking up toward Grimmer, who was smiling warmly his way. Warmly, but there was a kind of intensity that commanded his attention.

“Let me take care of it. I think I _did_ tell you to take a break just now…”

Tenma made to protest, but paused after a moment and simply sighed. As long as the floor was tidied and the strewn mess became less of a problem he wouldn’t complain _who_ was responsible for it.

“In that case, I think I might just go make something to drink. Coffee for you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Tenma excused himself from the mess, stepping around the corner into the kitchenette. He pulled mugs from the pantry as he waited for water to boil, listening to the faint shuffling and quiet humming from the other room. He pressed his back against the countertop, using his palms to brace himself as he glanced out the window at the slightly hazy, pinkish sky. It really had gotten later than he thought, if the sun was already starting to set.

Had Tenma chosen another path, he might be with the MSF right now.

After everything that had happened, and that he had witnessed, joining the MSF was something that had a certain appeal. But that wasn’t something he felt comfortable with when there was still so much left in the dark. Grimmer had never intended to recruit him on his search through the past, but then Tenma didn’t need to be asked; Kinderheim was a place that tied them both together, something they had their own interests in. The more they could expose to the world with conclusive, backed evidence, the more they could do to prevent the resurrection of any Kinderheim offshoot project. And so for now, he found himself in current company.

Despite the trouble they could easily find themselves in, it was a peaceful way of living.

Tenma stirred sugar and a little cream into their drinks. He always liked his a bit sweeter, with that extra dollop of sugar. Tenma brought his coffee up to his face, breathing in the rich aroma and letting out a soft sigh. Content, he lifted both of their mugs into his hands, heading back into the other room. Tenma hadn’t noticed, but the sound of shuffling had stopped; as he set down his coffee carefully and fixed his gaze on Grimmer, it was to see him staring very intently at one of the news clippings, his promise to tidy the rest of the mess aside seemingly forgotten.

The look on his face seemed pensive, even a little distant. Tension had taken his body into a stiff stance. Even the way he gripped the yellowed paper seemed agitated.

Tenma crouched down beside him, trying to get a look at just what had his friend in such a state. His eyes seemed to be fixed on the picture, a worn and yellowed image of a man with an intellectual atmosphere to him. He looked to be around his thirties, in that picture.

“Do you know him?”

Tenma’s tone was low, his words spoken cautiously. If that person was anyone at all to Grimmer, then he would have come from his past. Perhaps after Kinderheim. Perhaps during.

There wasn't an answer at first. No movement, no acknowledgement, nothing. Then, with a sigh from his friend, the moment seemed to come to an end. Grimmer relaxed very slightly beside him, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he turned to take the coffee from Tenma. He allowed the doctor to take the newsprint from him as he in turn held his drink in both hands, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t know. I think…” He broke off, hesitant, then shook his head a second time, turning a squinty-eyed smile toward Tenma. “I’m not sure.”

Grimmer took a sip of his bitter coffee, closing his eyes. Tenma finished the task of setting aside the rest of their haphazard collection, then went back to sit down with his own coffee, his mind occupied by troubled thoughts.

Grimmer might have _said_ he didn’t know, but he was lying. And while that past was his own, and Tenma respected as much, it wasn’t like him; he was usually so open, so plain with the doctor. Even _too much_ so at times.

Why so quiet now?

There was a name under his picture in fine print. Tenma traced the letters, before setting it along with the rest of their information aside.

Herbert Behrman…

Who was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure my warning at the top made this all seem very grim but it's not all gonna be sadness times...there are still warm moments of cooking and soft silly things.
> 
> For this fic I will be inventing a few nasty original faces....Behrman is the first.


	2. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally was part of chapter 1 but it felt better to cut it into two chapters.

It was a restless night.

Nothing had been particularly amiss that evening; Grimmer went out to pick up something they could eat, and they made dinner together in relative peace. There was no more talk of that man in the news clipping, and Grimmer seemed to be back to himself, pleasant and sing-song with a shine in his eyes. There was always something comfortable about cooking together in the kitchen, or cleaning; just the little mundane things felt…nice, when it was the two of them.

It wasn’t until after they’d retired to bed that the night turned cold.

In some hotels, they were afforded two beds, one for each of them; sometimes, though – like this one, where they’d been staying for just under a week – had only granted them a single bed. Ordinarily that wasn’t any kind of problem; Grimmer was a heavy sleeper, and rarely moved much to disturb Tenma.

Tonight was different.

Tenma had fallen asleep at some point, but the sound of shuddered breaths drifted into his mind, too close and too real to belong to any dream. And even if they were part of a dream, he’d rather not stay asleep to find out its source; only a few short months ago had he finally been rid of his own recurring nightmares, dreams of rain and gunfire and screams that wouldn’t be quelled.

Waking from a light attempt at sleep, Tenma listened to the unsteady sounds beside him. Shuddering breaths were accompanied by low and small noises – intermittently switching between barely-heard grunts and soft whines. Tenma was content to let it be; he knew well enough that Grimmer, too, endured his own night terrors, and that sometimes, it was best to let him go undisturbed. But it was growing more animated, worse with time. Opening his eyes he watched Grimmer shudder into his blanket, muttering something unintelligible, shaking his head, then shaking it again with more fervor and a sharp exhale. The fitful sounds he made were distinctively frightened, more than a simple unrest.

He was scared. And it wasn't stopping. Not after a few minutes, not a few minutes more.

Tenma rolled to his side, reaching across as he sought Grimmer’s hand. He was a little surprised when he felt just how much it was shaking, and took it carefully into his own.

“Grimmer.”

He scooted closer, keeping his voice soft. He gave Grimmer’s hand a gentle squeeze, drawing his thumb over his friend’s fingers.

“It’s all right, Grimmer. It’s just a dream.”

The hand he held suddenly went tense, taking a firm grip that made Tenma wince just a little. He didn’t know if Grimmer could hear him or not. If he did, he certainly wasn’t awake. He tried again, a little louder.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. Wake up, Grimmer. You’re just…it’s just a nightmare.”

He grew a little bolder, sitting up and using his free hand to touch Grimmer’s cheek. Even before he’d made contact, he watched as Grimmer’s eyes snapped open, then started blinking rapidly. The hand clenching his own grew tighter still, and Tenma let out a low grunt of mild pain.

“To…try to…okay, okay, try to breathe slowly. Just relax. It’s only me. It’s just me…”

It took a few moments, but Grimmer relaxed, managing to remember just where he was and that the person holding his hand wasn’t a threat. He looked up at Tenma with wide eyes, his gaze flicking between the doctor’s face and their held hands. His tense grip quickly slackened, and he pulled that hand away, scooting backward so he could sit up a little. Tenma moved his newly freed hand to rest - _slowly_ \- on Grimmer’s shoulder, rubbing circles there as he offered a warm smile. He didn’t say anything, not now. Better to let Grimmer gather his bearings first. The taller man, still a little shaken, took slow, deep breaths and closed his eyes.

“The...light.”

His voice came so softly. Tenma opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but blue eyes caught his own within a moment, silencing him with their intensity.

“Do you think you could…turn on the light?”

It was such a gently spoken request. Tenma nodded, squeezing Grimmer’s shoulder once as he stood and padded across the floor to flick the switch, wincing a little at the brightness. He resumed his place beside Grimmer, once more laying a hand over the man’s shoulder. Looking now under the light, he could see just how stressed the other man looked, but at least now he seemed aware of himself. He just sat there, breathing slowly as the seconds ticked by.

“It would seem I made you worry. I’m sorry about that.”

Tenma’s face fell and he shook his head, relaxing a little now that Grimmer seemed to be able to make sense of his situation.

“No. I was awake regardless.”

A lie, but that didn’t matter. He paused, looking toward the other man questioningly.

“You were having quite a nightmare.”

Grimmer nodded, though he didn’t look Tenma’s way just yet. The doctor let his hand fall away from the other man’s shoulders, relaxing in his lap instead.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He chose, once more, to be bold. It was quite clear that Grimmer – since the afternoon, up until now – had been trying to keep something from him. Something troubling enough that such an awful dream had surfaced. Tenma wasn’t usually one to be so bold, but whoever that person was…he had caused Grimmer enormous inner turmoil. That voice as he dreamed had been _frightened._

Grimmer was rather quick to open his mouth and draw a breath, as though about to refuse. But as he glanced Tenma’s way, his eyes fell to the hand he had crushed in his grip, and his jaw snapped shut. Slowly, he turned his gaze forward again. He looked pained.

“The hallway. The one from my memory.”

Tenma felt uncomfortable. A heaviness had settled, and he…well…a certain _guilt_ had found its way into his stomach, because he sincerely didn’t remember any… _hallway._ It had been quite a while, since Grimmer first recalled that memory to him. The vague memories he had of Kinderheim…it was understandable Tenma wouldn’t remember every detail said to him, but that he couldn’t recall this one whatsoever made him feel just a little bad. Still, he nodded despite himself, encouraging Grimmer to continue. The taller man hunched forward, clasping his hands together. They were steady now, but still tensed in his lap.

“I was being dragged, I think. Down that creaky hallway. Cracked ceiling…flickering lights...a big door, at the end. I was terrified of that door. I didn’t want to go there. But the hand kept pulling me. It was much bigger and stronger and I couldn’t get away.” He glanced up, his blue eyes filled with a gloom. “I don’t remember, after that. It’s black. Empty. But whatever was in that room was something horrible.”

Tenma swallowed. He recalled it now – the very brief description that Grimmer had given. The creaky hallway, crack in the ceiling, musty bed. The very few things he remembered from Kinderheim, after he had left. But being dragged, by a _hand…_

No wonder he’d become agitated when Tenma tried to relax him. That was probably…the furthest from a relaxing gesture, in that sort of situation. Tenma clasped his hands together, looking down at his thumbs.

“It was something to do with that man. In the newspaper clipping.”

He felt a little guilty, with all these questions. But Grimmer knew that he was always, always allowed to simply say no, that he didn’t want to talk about it, that now wasn’t a good time. Tenma asked because it worried him, but he recognized just how personal this was and that for someone like Grimmer…that might be hard. But, the look on his face wasn’t hesitant or wary. There was dread, something haunted, but he made no indication that Tenma was going too far.

“I think that man…was behind the door.”

The heaviness of guilt in Tenma’s stomach twisted and changed, becoming his own weight of dread as he absorbed all that could imply. He turned brightly questioning eyes toward Grimmer, his face nearly a plea. His begging eyes went unseen as Grimmer’s gaze stayed forward, a kind of desolation coming over him.

“Seeing his face…made me remember feeling afraid. Afraid of the door, and the person behind it. I think that he…did something to me. To the other boys. And it happened in that room.”

The heaviness in Tenma’s gut burned, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He had hoped beyond hoping it _wasn’t_ something like that. For Grimmer to be faced with someone who – probably – had participated in his abuse as a boy…

Tenma swallowed the dryness in his throat, reaching boldly and placing his hand over Grimmer’s, eclipsing it within a firm grasp. He didn’t say anything – not verbally, but that gesture was more than enough.

Whatever it was that Grimmer remembered…if he remembered any of it, he didn’t have to bear it alone. Tenma couldn’t protect him from his memories, or from what had already happened…but he could help him carry the weight. And so long as Grimmer allowed him that hand to hold, he would continue to do so.

He heard Grimmer exhale slowly beside him, his fingers curling gently to reciprocate their warm grip, laying his weight ever so slightly against the smaller man’s shoulder. Tenma drew his thumb over Grimmer’s knuckles one more time, smiling.

“Let’s see if we can’t get a little sleep tonight, before the sun comes up again.”

* * *

Tenma didn’t sleep, even after their short talk.

It had put Grimmer at ease, and he could hear the gentler breathing of his friend, but he found _himself_ in a state of relative unrest. His eyes wouldn’t stay closed, drawn to watch the peacefully resting figure of Grimmer.

Uncovering everything they could about Kinderheim meant they would be looking into the dark and ugly truth of what happened to the children there. Little conclusive and solid evidence could be tracked or traced; that sort of thing wasn’t the kind of experiment whose data was kept lying around to be found. Even Pedrov had been hesitant to keep what he did. But, enough digging around and Tenma was confident they would find something that could prove just what sorts of abuse went on behind those walls. It meant exposing Grimmer’s suffering to the world, but he himself had begun that very battle with every understanding of what it meant; Tenma was just along for the journey, helping Grimmer to wade through the dark.

It was different, though, to be given the face of someone who may have hurt those boys. May have hurt _him._

Grimmer seemed to approach the abuse present in Kinderheim in an almost textbook way, with a professionalism and detachment that separated him from the issue at hand. The man spoke almost as though he was a completely different person from the boy that had been raised in Kinderheim, as though he was merely looking in on the unfortunate life of someone else. Perhaps it helped him to cope, not to associate himself with that suffering. But this…

It wasn’t a journal entry or newspaper clipping that documented the gritty experiences of the boys in 511 Kinderheim in a sorrowful and detached tone. This was a memory, an _experience,_ that forced Grimmer to acknowledge his own perspective. Someone had dragged him into a room, a room that made him afraid. Someone had _hurt_ him there. And Grimmer…remembered. Bits of it. The fear. The face.

Just thinking about it made Tenma’s skin crawl.

Herbert Behrman…

Someone evil had entered Grimmer’s memories. Tenma had to be here for him, now more than ever.

* * *

Tenma shifted and sprawled in bed, realizing with a start of alarm that, presently, he had spread himself over the entire mattress. There was no sign of any other body beside him, asleep or awake or otherwise. It seemed he _did_ manage to sleep, if perhaps a little uncomfortably and definitely quite late, by the shine of the sun through the window.

A mild amount of apprehension kept the doctor on his toes, at least until he confirmed with his own eyes that Grimmer was still there in the hotel room, sat at the dining table drinking coffee and reading through their materials. He glanced up at Tenma’s low exhale, offering a soothing smile and a wave of his coffee-bearing hand.

“Good morning, finally.”

Tenma nodded, going to pour himself a coffee, though he wouldn’t entirely call it a “good” morning. He’d slept a bit uncomfortably and now his neck was stiff and his left temple had a dull throb that wouldn’t leave. He went to sit down by Grimmer once he’d fixed himself a drink, eyes going to the clippings in the other man’s hand. That name was mentioned again – that Behrman.

“I finished sorting through what was left to be organized. It’s all as close as I could manage, trying to maintain chronological order. Though some files simply can’t be helped, we don’t know enough to be sure when they were dated. I hope we can fill that in, once we start a proper analysis.”

Tenma glanced from Grimmer’s news clipping to his coffee, then to the man himself. He lifted his gaze from what he was reading, catching Tenma’s eyes with a somewhat more confident and assured look of his own. Tenma couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

“These are…?”

“Everything that directly mentions the name Herbert Behrman. It's not much, as you can see.”

Grimmer said it with such simplicity and calm. To Tenma, though, it only raised his concerns. He felt his grip tighten around his coffee, and the look that Grimmer had fixed him with changed. It became a little less friendly and warm, with undertones of the pain that Tenma had come to be rather familiar with. There was no dread, though. Not like before.

“It might be a little bit selfish of me to start here. There’s a lot for us to cover, and these pieces seem quite scattered. But…if seeing his face brought such a powerful feeling…I think that it might be important.”

His gaze hardened as he looked to Tenma then.

“I want to remember. I think it’s important that I do. Right now…I’m the only one left who could provide a statement. Nothing is known, as to the horrible abuse that went on in that place. All we have is speculation. But if I can remember, then we’ll have something real. Tangible. And…I think I have the right to know the things that happened to me there. Even if it’s awful.”

Grimmer spoke both confidently and warily; the voice of someone who very much understood the dangers of treading this way, understood just how ugly it might become. He knew, and he chose that path anyway.

_I think I have the right to know the things that happened to me there._

That was what struck Tenma, what he really _felt._ Because it was true. As hard as that might be…living with no memory, as though _none_ of it had happened, was arguably worse. It erased everything and left Grimmer with…nothing, just a blank canvas he could only hope to guess at.

All at once this venture into Kinderheim had become a much more personal one. Even if it wasn’t, the rest of what he said was true; Grimmer, now, was the only person who could dig into those memories and recount the very real experiences of what happened there. This was for him, for his memories, for his right to _know,_ but it also…

“Whatever it is that you find… _if_ you – we – do…”

Tenma set his coffee down, his own expression intense now. He corrected himself quickly, injecting his presence by force into this narrative; he wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what they might find. Grimmer seemed to catch on, turning a briefly quizzical look his way. His own expression echoed the confidence Grimmer had portrayed before.

“Whatever you find…just remember, you’re allowed to keep it to yourself. If you decide you’re not comfortable publicizing it…even for the sake of putting a real testimony onto Kinderheim…you don’t have to. This is about you. And if you decide it stays with you, then it stays with you.”

Grimmer looked over him with idle curiosity, his expression difficult to read. At least, until a small quirk of his brow and upward turn at the corner of his lips offered some small clue.

“Would this statement of privacy be inclusive of one Doctor Kenzo Tenma…?”

Tenma’s mouth felt dry again, his gaze falling in slight embarrassment. By default, if he was offering his continued help to Grimmer, then there was a good chance he, too, would become privy to just what all happened to him. Allowing Grimmer his privacy only worked if it was complete. Tenma closed his eyes, swallowing.

“I didn’t mean to imply…if you would rather that I don’t-“

A clap at his shoulder caught him off guard and he jolted slightly, eyes opening once more to see Grimmer smiling a wry little smile.

“I suppose I hadn’t made myself clear. I was only teasing, but then, I guess it's not so easy to tell…”

He took his hand back, going for a sip of his coffee, his eyes lightening to something warm and sincere.

“I think that you’re someone I can trust with that sort of thing. I would certainly be a bit more lonely, without your help. And I imagine I may become a little too bold on my own. You’ll need to keep me from losing my head.”

Grimmer’s tone was light and airy, but Tenma swallowed those words with heavy burden and gratitude both. The truth of the matter was that Grimmer…had just now trusted Tenma with his past, with everything that came with its knowledge. To him it might be a simple matter of trust to someone he felt he could confide in, but to Tenma…in those tired early hours, it took more than a little effort to maintain his composure. He nodded, setting his jaw as he dove into his own coffee, allowing the very slight tremble of his lip to disappear behind his cup. Only once he was confident in his ability to keep a calm face did he set it down again, looking over Grimmer with intense purpose.

“I’ll help you.” He said simply, boldly. “I’ll help you to remember, however I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad dream time :( But at least he has Tenma with him.
> 
> Moving forward the fic is going to start getting more into what actually happened, so keep an eye out for warnings!


	3. Gillen's Analysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a forewarning; after this chapter is when things start getting really heavy. A number of issues are briefly touched on in this chapter, but nothing in depth yet. There are implications of child abuse, sexual abuse and domestic violence.

As eager as they were to dig into the truths of Kinderheim and its victims, there was only very little to be gleaned on the man named Herbert Behrman. He was a behavioural psychologist of a kind, and a published author in the field, according to Grimmer’s article. He was married and divorced twice, remaining single thereafter. He had lived in East Germany in his early life, and hailed from a well-to-do family of scholarly types.

Nothing more was known, at least not from their findings. No old addresses, projects he was working on, the title or year of his book’s publication, nothing. Looking for his name at the library turned out a fruitless endeavour; no such author existed. Most likely, he used a pseudonym to publish his book, though neither of them had the first idea how to find it.

And Grimmer had no more luck in deciphering just where that nightmare would take him.

He was ever more restless at night, dreaming fitfully more often than not. Tenma took to leaving a low lamp light on, a small comfort to Grimmer that did at least a little to ease him.

Tenma didn’t think it was particularly healthy, to be deliberately exposing himself to the very thing that caused that primal fear. But it wasn’t his place to say as much; Grimmer had nothing, _no_ memory of his youth to substantiate what had happened to him. He had absolutely nothing and now, given the chance to find out…how could he be expected to refuse?

In the end it was best that Tenma stay with him after all. He couldn’t imagine Grimmer facing this alone, with no one there to lean on when the dreams became too much. It was something that frustrated Grimmer; however vivid that sequence was, he simply couldn't recall what came next. But a memory buried that far down...this wasn't something that could so easily be pushed.

Tenma did, though, have an idea. Somewhere he might be able to go to find out more about Behrman. Of course, it meant going out of their way to visit Munich, something Grimmer seemed just a little wary of. But then, by the fact that Kinderheim intelligence was highly sought-after by a number of suspicious parties, it was an understandable reaction.

“You won’t have to come.” Tenma coaxed, sitting next to the man as they enjoyed their lunch under the bright of the sun. “And I’ll keep my head low. I know I can trust Rudi. And right now, he's teaching in Universities across the country. I’ll just catch him after one of his lectures finishes. No reason for anyone to suspect me at Munich University.”

“True,” came Grimmer’s slow reply, “but that’s assuming you’re not tailed to begin with. I may be a bigger target, but you seem to have a difficult time keeping yourself hidden. If you recall the events of Prague…?”

Tenma looked away, huffing as he went to take a bite of his sandwich. That had been a gross miscalculation on his part that had nearly cost him everything. He knew Grimmer was just trying to help, but all the same…Tenma had a little more confidence in himself now than he had back then.

“I just think it’ll put us ahead.” He murmured, looking at his hands for a moment before he picked his gaze back up again, trying to catch Grimmer’s eyes. “He’s a criminal psychologist who’s been published in the field for years. If _anyone_ would know how to find Behrman’s book, or know anything about the man himself, it would be Rudi.”

Grimmer’s gaze narrowed, and he let out a heavy breath, but eventually he nodded.

“To be honest, we’ve reached a standstill. If we continue the way we are, I don't think I'll find the answers I'm looking for. It’s a good opportunity, like you said. But…”

Grimmer turned a glance his way, his expression kind, but just a little sad.

“Be careful. Just remember to keep your eyes open.”

Tenma nodded, and they continued their lunch in relative quiet. Grimmer seemed a little more at ease, but Tenma knew better; it was a front, just as that lie had been. He was worried – concerned that they hadn’t moved forward at all, that he hadn’t found anything, and now it worried him that Tenma was putting himself at risk. Even so, he buried all of those worries beneath that mask of his, that practiced smile.

“While you’re with that friend of yours, I’ll see what I can learn from the rest of our findings. You put so much time into organizing it all, I almost hate to make a mess of it…but perhaps I’ll find something, if I keep myself busy.”

At least he had something to do, a way to occupy himself. Even if it worried him just a little, leaving Grimmer to soak that information on his own. Still, he gave an affirmative nod.

"If all goes well, I shouldn't be gone more than a few days. I'll be back soon."

* * *

Gillen had seemed a little surprised to encounter Tenma after the end of his lecture, but was quick to usher him into his office. Even if he didn't know the details of the doctor's venture, he knew better than to leave Tenma out in the open. He closed the door behind him, setting about making something for the two of them to drink. Tenma sat himself down in the comfortable chair opposite to Gillen’s desk and looked around.

It wasn’t quite as nice as the office he occupied in his position as a criminal psychologist, but it was decent enough for a temporary instructor. Ever since the publication of his book, Gillen’s works had become a high demand, and professors had been rather excited to bring him in as a guest lecturer for their courses. It certainly bolstered his already impressive reputation.

“I’m assuming this isn’t just a social visit, if you’re showing up unannounced like this. You should think about letting me know that you plan to drop in. If this venture of yours with Grimmer is as cumbersome and dangerous as I’ve come to believe, this isn’t exactly safe.”

Tenma nodded, just a little sheepish as he looked away and down toward the tea that Rudi set for him. He gave no answer to his friend’s comments, more for a lack of real answer than out of any disrespect. His former classmate looked him over once, sighed, then sat across from him at his desk, neatly clasping his hands together at rest.

“So. What’s this about?”

Tenma remained hesitant, but reached inside his jacket to retrieve a carefully bound envelope. He held it out to Rudi, briefly reminded of how it was they’d first come back to reunite with one another. He had sought Rudi’s sound advice then, and now he’d come for it again.

Gillen took the envelope quietly, still waiting for Tenma to speak. The doctor glanced to the closed door then back to his friend. Gillen offered a nod in response - a sign to Tenma that, yes, it was safe. 

“While looking through what we’d collected, Grimmer was struck with a memory. Something about the person pictured in that news clipping. He was a little slow to open up about it, but when I asked, he told me that he thinks this Herbert Behrman...may have had a direct hand in his abuse."

Despite himself, Tenma's fingers curled into a fist in his lap, though he kept a relaxed expression.

"It’s the closest thing we have to any kind of concrete inside look as to what happened to the children in Kinderheim. We were able to determine that Behrman is a published author within the field of behavioural psychology. I thought his book might have more answers, but we haven’t had any luck finding it.”

Gillen took in each bit of information silently, with a stony face as he absorbed what Tenma had said. He brought his hands to rest under his chin, narrowing his eyes. 

“And you supposed I would know. Because it’s a related field? Or possibly…” His eyes flicked up, almost cold. “Because I’m a _criminal_ psychologist. I may be familiar with former Kinderheim faculty because I study that sort of mind. Is that it?”

Tenma opened his mouth to object, but Gillen raised a hand to quiet him, shaking his head.

“Relax, both would happen to be correct in this case. I’ve said before that I find fascination in the abyss. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you came looking for my advice based solely on that.”

He took a sip of his tea, letting Tenma settle on those words with just a little discomfort before he finally continued.

“You wouldn’t find Behrman if you looked for his name. It’s published under another. Though, I imagine he isn’t as hard to find as you think. Not if you know the details."

Gillen paused again, allowing Tenma to take that in. There was something he knew, then; something that Tenma hadn't found in the newspaper clippings.

"First of all, you should know he was discredited in the academic society. He _was_ a leader in the field for a time, until ethics came into question. Several behavioural studies were deemed suspicious, which resulted in background checks against numerous intellectual minds across Europe. German-born author Anthony Pogue was quickly shunned by academics when allegations of his involvement in the kidnapping and subsequent murder of three children were brought to light. And of course, he would later be outed as Herbert Behrman, wanted for numerous atrocities in his own right, involvement in Kinderheim notwithstanding. Both of his ex-wives could attest to his nature. Though, it’s not entirely uncommon for one who gazes into the abyss to fall deeply in love with it. He fell to its dark allure, and became victim to his craft.”

There was something dangerous in that statement. A light tease at Gillen’s own disposition, though as of yet Tenma trusted his friend not to sink too deep into the dark. Tenma swallowed a gulp of tea, setting it down again.

“I never knew. The killings. The inquiry.” 

“No, you probably wouldn’t. His works were promptly removed from shelves. Only a small number are still circulating. As it happens, I’m the owner of one of its copies.” 

Rudi went into the top drawer of his desk, producing a ring of keys. He fiddled with it a bit, stopping once he’d reached the key he was looking for and opening one of the lower drawers of his desk. To Tenma it seemed just a little odd to be so cautious, but then, if he was holding onto works by someone like Behrman…

There was a pause as the criminal psychologist pulled a moderately-sized hardback book from the drawer, setting it down. He narrowed his eyes up at Tenma, his expression, his tone, both warily pensive.

“The man who penned this book was depraved. Something I'm sure you must know, understanding that he had ties to 511 Kinderheim. What exactly did Grimmer tell you about this person? What triggered the memory?”

Tenma shook his head, reaching for the book and turning it to face him. He felt unsettled at how ordinary it was; a simple cover, with titling in silver and the author's name printed below. A sense of dread rippled through his body.

“It was just the picture. He saw that and it unsettled him. But he wouldn’t say anything until that night, when he...had a dream.”

Tenma could practically feel as Gillen’s brow quirked with intrigue, hands going to his tea to take a sip as he stared at Tenma over the rim of the china cup. He set it down again with a nod, reaching into an inside pocket of his jacket, only to hesitate and return his hands to the table.

“And his dream? Why don’t you tell me about it. What was it like?”

Tenma watched the way Gillen moved. His focus had shifted from Tenma to Grimmer, to his experiences. Revealing anything more to Gillen now meant that his words would be analyzed not by his friend, but by the cutting mind of a psychologist. He had to be careful with what he said. Nothing that would expose Grimmer...but he supposed he could reveal what he already knew, what was told to him when they had first met. That memory...

“Nothing much to note. His dream...he’d described it to me once before. Shortly after we met. A hallway with a cracked ceiling and flickering lights. He’s moving down the hallway. But then he comes to a door...and after that...nothing. He was hoping… _we_ were hoping...that reading Behrman’s book might restore some of his memories.”

Gillen nodded a slow and purposeful nod. “What lies beyond the dark door.”

Tenma’s mouth felt dry again, but he nodded. He took a slow sip of his tea, but it did little to ease him. That look on Gillen’s face...he was already diving deep into the psyche of the dream. Tenma had said little, and yet that alone…

“The first question here isn’t what’s behind the door. It’s where most would look, so I don’t blame you, but there’s something else to consider first. Can you be so sure there’s a door at all?”

Gillen spoke matter of factly, though he didn’t lord his intellect over Tenma, not as he might have in the past. He was guiding Tenma this time, just...trying to help him. He felt a little more relaxed, finding something familiar in Gillen once again, the analytical mind briefly set aside as his friend’s gaze coaxed him to respond.

Only he wasn’t sure...just what he should say. Nothing about what Grimmer said had seemed unusual; if he claimed there was a door, he had no reason to believe otherwise. Tenma looked at his hands.

“There was a door in his dream, at least.”

Gillen uttered a sound of assent, sitting back in his chair and clasping his hands again.

“What we’re talking about here is the childhood memory of a man whose traumatic experiences were so severe, all traces of any memory were erased from his mind. It’s not uncommon for traces of those memories to surface slowly over time. Like you said, the details of that hallway seem vivid enough. But very often, something like that - a closed door - is a symbol. Something conjured by the mind to protect you from what happened.”

He paused then, waiting to be sure that Tenma had absorbed what he was saying. The doctor gave a short nod, swallowing as a lump started to form in his throat. He nodded for Gillen to continue, letting his hands rest, lightly clenched, in his lap.

“His trauma is serious. Though he may be trying to remember, his mind has inbuilt barricades to prevent him from recalling those experiences. It’s a common mechanism for victims of severe abuse - domestic violence or sexual assault. Just as likely, it’s there to block something that he witnessed. Something he couldn’t comprehend as a child, something that his mind shielded him from. The death of a friend, for example. But...understanding the purpose and nature of Kinderheim, it could be that he was conditioned to fear a particular trigger, and the door repres-”

_“Stop.”_

Tenma was staring at a spot on the table, his nails starting to dig into his palms. Gillen went quiet, only now seeming to recognize his friend’s distress. The doctor felt tense, _beyond_ tense, as he focused on just that one spot to keep at least some semblance of calm about him. Gillen exhaled slowly, reaching toward his friend cautiously, before hesitating and falling back again.

“Tenma, I…”

“ _No._ No more. I don’t…”

His fisted hands clenched tighter, his head bowing forward so his bangs hid his face.

“I don’t want to do this. Not without his permission. Not without him here. I don’t want to… _unravel_ him.”

It was hard enough just to speak. His mouth felt like it was full of lead, as leaden as his hollowed-out chest. It wasn’t his place to peek behind that door, not without Grimmer there to tell him it was okay to look. But more than that...Tenma...didn’t want to _think_ about it. About all of those things...Gillen’s analysis was based on data, on his own experiences working with psychologically disturbed minds. This was his area of expertise. But the second he laid out his diagnosis...it hit hard. What they were talking about...what Gillen was suggesting…

Grimmer had only been a child. Eight or nine years old. Fourteen at the oldest, when he’d left. And he knew...he _knew_ the kinds of atrocities that humans were capable of, but...

“I’m sorry, Tenma.”

The voice was sincere. Tenma...couldn’t particularly blame Gillen; this was his field of expertise, and in a way Tenma had been feeding him the fuel. In Gillen’s eyes, his impromptu analysis was probably a part of what Tenma had come for - answers, a way to break past Grimmer’s inability to remember beyond the door. Tenma swallowed heavily, but didn’t look up just yet, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Gillen let out another sigh, watching his friend with a mixture of concern and disdain. 

“If that’s all, then I’ll leave you with Behrman’s book. I can almost certainly tell you that Kinderheim experiments are referenced in his studies, though watered down considerably. I would have to imagine that Grimmer’s memories would grow clearer from its contents. That said, I’d just like to caution you. The path you’re following right now will only take you to dark places. There’s no telling what facing the past might do to him, of course, but you _yourself_ have to be ready for what you’ll find, Tenma.” 

He stood, stepping around toward Tenma and placing a hand on his shoulder. Tenma was aware of the weight, somehow holding him to the spot as he glanced away.

“I just want to make sure you can handle it. I don’t want you to get hurt. Your open heart is...”

“I know.”

Finally, Tenma looked up. Dark, tired eyes met Gillen’s worried ones. They lacked the usual glimmer they carried, but there was an earnestness to his expression.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be all right. I know it’s not going to be easy for either of us, but I have to be there for him. We’ll be okay.”

He managed a weak attempt at a smile as he stood, collecting up Gillen’s book under his arm. He gathered back his folder from Gillen, opening his office door and glancing over his shoulder.

“I know you’re busy now, but it was nice to see you again, Rudi. Even for something like this.”

He turned, heading out into the hall, tucking the book away. He slowed, though, when he heard frantic shuffling behind him, Gillen stepping outside.

“Hold on. There’s one more thing, Tenma. I...have no confirmation, this is only a theory, but...”

Tenma looked up, back toward Gillen. That dread settled back about his shoulders, heavy on his person. Gillen beckoned him back inside, eyes flicking down the hall. They were alone, it seemed, but then Gillen knew better to err on the side of caution in this case.

“I’d like to show you something. Though…you might not like it.”

Tenma hesitated, stepping back inside with wary eyes. He wasn’t suspicious in any way, but Gillen’s phrasing put a certain chill in the doctor’s bones. He met his friend’s gaze. 

“Just what…?”

He trailed off, but it was understood. Gillen said nothing at first, simply ushering him further inside, heading back around his desk. He reached into one of the lower drawers, gazing back up toward Tenma.

“Something that might help you and your friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I forget how much I enjoy writing Gillen. He's just a lot of fun and so dramatic. But yeah just a lot of Bad for Tenma to think on :( At this point it's all conjecture though.
> 
> As an aside, a few people know that Tenma and Grimmer are going on the sly looking to pick apart Kinderheim. Gillen, Lunge and Suk are aware at differing degrees.


	4. Conditioning of Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a particularly heavy one. Child sexual assault is briefly discussed as well as forced separation of families. The references I make here to Gillen and Lunge are nods to a passage in Lunge's chapter from Another Monster and some further conclusions I drew from it.

Returning to the hotel was more difficult than it should have been. Just the thought of seeing Grimmer...it was almost painful.

In a way, Tenma felt like he’d betrayed him. Not intentionally, but what Grimmer had said to him was something said in confidence. Gillen...Gillen was someone that Tenma trusted, someone who might be able to _help,_ but with what had seemed to be harmless words, he’d allowed the other man to...see inside, to pick apart Grimmer’s psyche without so much as consulting him first. And even just from a brief hypothetical analysis, what he was _suggesting_...

Tenma continued to remind himself that _none_ of his discussion with Rudi was evidenced by what they’d found on Kinderheim; his dialogue had been one of conjecture, a “worst case scenario” meant to prepare Tenma should the truth be so horrific. Nothing was proven to say otherwise.

It didn’t erase that niggling whisper at the back of his mind, one that choked at the doctor's throat. Made his stomach twist and his skin crawl.

He didn’t know what happened inside of Kinderheim. _Neither_ of them did. They understood that the children there had suffered physical abuse and terrible living conditions, but Tenma had never…had _never_ even considered the possibility that those boys may have been sexually abused. It hadn’t crossed his mind, not once.

Thinking back, both Gillen and Lunge had made their own assertions surrounding Kinderheim graduates. That man from Ruehenheim, the one Tenma faced at the library, had been one of them; Adolf Reinhart, Grimmer’s long lost friend, now lost forever. He had fallen into a category Lunge qualified as a “pleasure killer”, an individual that - in all likelihood - was just as much a victim himself. 

Gillen’s own expertise pointed to something similar; that though it was true victims responded to trauma differently, a common trend caused the victim, later in life, to become the aggressor. His own example had been another survivor of Kinderheim, Stephen Jost, who had been executed by the late Detective Braun. He had been tied to the rape and murder of several teenage girls, allegations that were enough for Braun to pass preemptive judgement. His relation to Kinderheim was information that came later.

Tenma...hadn’t quite put it together, at the time; that those victims...if... _if_ they were victims...that _Kinderheim_ could have been where it started.

There was no proof. No evidence to say one way or another. But just the idea...just the _thought_ that Grimmer could have been a victim made Tenma want to vomit. He had only been a child. They _all_ had been.

Seeing Grimmer at the door, greeting him with a smile, was nearly suffocating. He couldn't think to return it right now, but Grimmer seemed not to notice.

“Two days round trip? You were faster than I thought…I expected you’d be gone a bit longer. Not that I’m complaining...!”

Tenma opened his mouth, then closed it again when he couldn't think of an answer. There was a pointed look from Grimmer and a quirked brow, but he relented with a shrug and turned once more.

“I wasn't expecting you to be back so soon. Unfortunately I haven't bothered to make dinner...shall we go out, then?”

Tenma grimaced on reflex. He couldn’t say if he’d be able to keep his head about him in public. With so much weighing on him, the concept of having to make conversation and keep up a pleasant disposition was difficult. And besides that, he…

“I’m...I don't have much of an appetite. But thank you.”

His stomach did an uncomfortable little flip in a perfectly timed response. He managed to keep a straight face, but the look Grimmer gave him was distinctively uncertain, with a mild pout and furrowed brows. He said nothing, but more than likely he suspected the talk with Gillen had gone sour. All the same, he turned away with enough ease and allowed Tenma to divest himself of his jacket and shoes.

"Any luck on your end?"

He turned the conversation elsewhere. In two days, Grimmer had to have made decent progress, and hearing something like that would at least give Tenma something _else_ to focus on. The man hummed, heading inside the hotel room.

“I did piece a few things together, I think. Not about our friend Behrman, but surrounding the means by which children were seized. Many were orphans, of course; but it was more than that. There was, if you're familiar, a particularly evil practice used even years after the war ended. The government seized children on the grounds that their parents would not be suitable to raise them within a socialist society, as punishment to those who refused its ideals. It was an efficient tactic to silence those who sought change. And I believe that Kinderheim may have made use of it.”

Tenma’s stomach twisted itself tighter into knots. He was aware of the forced adoption of children in the German Democratic Republic; though, he hadn’t thought just how Kinderheim might benefit. It was an easy system to be exploited; of the innumerable many children removed from their families, ten or twenty would disappear, lost to the shadows of 511 Kinderheim. Even Johan and Anna...their situation wasn't so different. Grimmer went on to continue, seemingly unaware of Tenma's discomfort.

“One particular article was told from the view of a girl whose young brother was taken. The family was told that he died, but this girl was reunited with him, fifteen years later. Though, he uses a different name, and had a different family. And of course, there are many instances of young mothers in grieving, told by doctors the child didn't survive, but adamant that they had heard the child's voice…they suffered most dearly; their child never had any identity to begin with. It's a horrible thing, but you'll notice a correlation...many families that refused the East German ways were the very same political activists whose children were sent to Kinderheim upon the parents' untimely demise. Most likely, the Ministry of the Interior took advantage of the situation; while many children removed from their families were given new homes, there are cases such as the one in this article - falsely reported deaths...an easy way to cover when that child is brought...to...”

Tenma almost didn’t notice when his friend trailed off, except that the absolute silence that followed left him alone with his own uneasy thoughts. The feeling of a hand on his shoulder caused him to flinch, his body easily jostled under what really was terribly light contact. He balled his hands into fists, closing his eyes and taking a slow, deep breath.

“That was probably a lot for you to take in at once. You have a very open heart, after all.”

Grimmer’s words were spoken with a fond touch to them, though undoubtedly he worried for the doctor; if he was so emotional over this alone, then to learn the rest, what happened _after_ Grimmer was taken…

Tenma nodded, trying to relax. Grimmer’s presence was a comfort, and regardless of whatever had happened… _this_ was the person that had come out of it in the end. Someone who was kind, whose smile was warm, who had so much compassion to offer despite everything. He was okay. The past had hurt him, but he had grown beyond it.

“No. I’m all right, I just…”

“Something happened when you met with Gillen.”

Tenma looked up, fighting to catch Grimmer’s gaze, to look him in the eye. He felt his stomach squirm again, his mouth going dry as his lip quivered just once before he managed to steady it. He had promised himself he wouldn’t talk about his discussion with Gillen. He needed to be absolutely sure, before he even thought to bring something so sickening to the table.

“Nothing conclusive. I’d rather not add conjecture to all of this, not without proof.”

Not a lie. An easy dodge around the question without revealing anything. Grimmer took a moment before nodding, clapping Tenma’s shoulder again.

“That’s probably smart. But, I hope you at least got what you had gone looking for…?”

Tenma blinked, briefly puzzled before he recalled the whole reason he had opted to visit Gillen. He nodded, standing and stepping away from Grimmer, back toward the front entrance where he’d left his coat.

“Conditioning of Man, second edition. Independently published by Anthony Pogue in 1969.”

He came back around to Grimmer, dropping a moderately-sized green-backed book onto the dining table. There was an air of curiosity, though neither moved to open it as of yet.

“According to Gillen, the pseudonym comes from his first wife’s maiden name and his father’s first name. And besides that…he was apparently discredited among academics and his works banned, due to allegations of –”

Tenma paused, gaze flicking up to Grimmer before returning to the book that sat in front of them now. His voice lowered, bangs shadowing his face.

“…allegations of his participation in the kidnapping and murder of three children. Allegations that proved to be true. While I was in Munich, I dug through the archives; all three were the children of his ex-wives fathered by other men. In his confession, he said that they were 'inferior'. It was later determined that he had close ties to Emil Serbe and several officials in the Ministry of the Interior.”

Grimmer frowned down at the book, though still made no effort to reach out, to pick it up. It was clear he _wanted_ to read it, but something was holding him back. He seemed disturbed, but that was only natural. The taller man let his hands relax at his sides, taking a deep breath as he turned his gaze back to Tenma.

“You’re sure that I can’t coax you to dinner.”

Tenma breathed in, then out again more slowly and shook his head. He felt a little more stable now, but he just knew that if he ate anything, it wasn’t going to stay down.

“Thank you. But I’m just not in the mood.”

He managed at least to offer a warm enough smile, something that would provide a small encouragement. Grimmer took it at face value, but he didn’t quite relent, even then.

“In that case…how would you feel about a walk?”

He glanced out the window, where the smoggy sky was starting to fade to deeper blues, his smile ever-present.

“It’s a nice evening. And I think some cool, fresh air would do the both of us a little good. Just to get out, to do something nice…I think that would help.”

Tenma looked up, following Grimmer’s gaze. He wasn’t wrong; all Tenma could think about was his conversation with Gillen. All that was discussed. And now…all of what Grimmer had revealed, the likelihood that he was forcefully taken from his parents as a boy…

Fresh air would do them good.

* * *

It was quiet in the evening, even as the sky continued to darken and the moon shone silver.

Grimmer and Tenma had stopped for now, taking to a park bench to just relax and watch the sky. The night air was damp and cool, and the faintest whisper of wind toyed lightly with Tenma’s hair. Despite the calm, both of them were open-eyed and alert. It was a habit, but then again, even now they couldn’t be too careful. Not so long as any parties remained interested in Kinderheim.

“It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Grimmer spoke a little vaguely, with whimsy in his voice. Tenma could only assume he meant the night air or something like that and nodded, offering a small smile.

“It’s nice.”

Grimmer didn’t look his way, keeping his gaze forward, that faint smile gently laid upon his lips.

“I’m a little bit anxious, I think. Afraid of what I might find.”

The murmur was more candid than Tenma had expected. He blinked, glancing toward his friend. Grimmer kept his gaze forward, smiling that faint and distant smile, though his eyes had something else glistening there. Certainly nothing jovial.

“There's a chance that I was taken away from my parents. That's clear to me, though I’m not quite sure how I should feel about it. Because if I was taken…” He paused, seemingly trying to search for the right word. He wrung his hands together, traces of discomfort starting to show past the smile.

“If I was taken, doesn’t it mean that I wasn’t abandoned? That my parents probably loved me, and became victims of an awful practice. I should be glad to think that might be possible, but…my own son…”

There were no traces of his smile now, the facade entirely forgotten.

“I think if I were in their shoes, and my child was taken from me, it would be the same thing as dying. I can’t imagine that. To have my own son taken away.”

He paused again, his shoulders sagging from an unseen weight.

“They could be alive somewhere, hurting. Looking for their son, and I might never know, even if I saw them. Maybe they’re already gone. Or maybe, I really was abandoned. I don’t know.”

Tenma lay a silent hand on Grimmer’s, that ache back in his chest as it had been before. Grimmer had long known he may have been an abandoned child, but chose to live by his own beliefs; that everyone was wanted, that _someone_ wanted them.

That someone wanted _him._

Tenma would be that someone. He offered his hand as a reminder, proof that Grimmer wasn’t alone now, that there was someone to lean on when he ever felt unsure.

“I think that reading Behrman’s book will help me to remember things. What happened to me in that dark room. But I’m also a little worried. The more I think about that room…the more dangerous it feels. There are going to be ugly parts. It makes me wonder what might happen, if I find them. Even so, I want to know. For me, and for all the others like me.”

Tenma gave his hand a squeeze, exhaling slowly, battling the burning ache that hollowed his heart. 

Grimmer…was nervous. He was questioning himself, but he had long decided that he was going to commit to self-discovery no matter what he found. And to Tenma…that was something to be admired.

“You’re brave.” He murmured, keeping a firm grip on Grimmer’s hand, his gaze turning toward the moon. “It takes a lot of courage to want to go through with this. Even though you know you won’t like what you find.”

He could feel eyes on him, and Grimmer’s hand squeezed back.

“I owe a lot of that to you. Having you here to encourage and support me. It’s done a lot for my own resolve, seeing your determination.”

Tenma flushed lightly under the moonlight, smiling and shrinking into himself with a light chuckle. For a moment, his own silent anguish was quieted; just for a moment, just knowing that even in some small way, he could provide ease to his friend’s spirit. He shrugged a shoulder.

“I’m just….”

He trailed off, uncertain of what he was trying to say. Grimmer tilted his head. “Just…?”

Tenma opened his mouth to answer, still just a little flustered, only for a very _different_ and rather unflattering sound to gurgle upward from his empty stomach. Slowly, he closed his mouth in defeat, the burning red of his face only turning deeper and darker. Grimmer’s airy laughter did nothing to help it.

“You really are very bad at taking care of yourself, aren’t you?”

* * *

However gentle their brief venture into the night had been, returning to the hotel brought a wave of uncertainty back to the both of them. Still sat unopened at their table was Behrman’s book, inviting their attention. They stood in the entrance for just a little longer, before Grimmer finally took the first step inside, pulling the door to their room closed behind them.

“I suppose we’d best get comfortable.”

Grimmer’s quip was spoken with a lightness that hid whatever dread he may have had, enough so that to most it might be convincing. But then, that was what he’d been trained to do.

The two sat wordlessly, Grimmer in front of the book itself while Tenma brought his chair around to Grimmer’s side. For just a moment more, they sat looking at the book’s cover. _Conditioning of Man. Anthony Pogue._ By title alone it held ominous promise.

The cover was flipped, opening to the document’s pretext.

_It is said and understood that man is the greatest species of animal on the planet. Though human intelligence may be met by other rapidly evolved species, their capacity to think is far greater than their wild companions. It is the human capability to think for themselves and recognize societal distinctions - class, wealth, and more - that allows man to recognize concepts such as religion and freedom._

_This recognition in our thought should not be taken for granted however; humans are, themselves, animals no greater than the creatures called Man’s Best Friend. Growing naturally and under ordinary exposure to stimuli, the human mind develops concepts for what freedom is; this, among every other immaterial ideation that man has concocted. Suppose, however, that a child were to be raised not within societal norms, but within a sealed room. Knowing nothing outside of the room and with no proper concept for a larger world, one could not know that this is ‘confinement’; the room, then, becomes the standard for freedom._

_Conditioned correctly, the human mind may be easily tricked. False concepts may be implanted in memory that seem as real as the truth; even the simplest of mundanities can be altered, erased or replaced in a correctly adapted mind. Documented here are numerous studies carried out through the course of several years, to varying degrees of effect._

How any sort of book that started with a preface as daunting as that could have ever been considered legitimate was far beyond what Tenma could imagine. It was ghastly even in its opening; the tone was set, and he already knew where it was heading. Grimmer let out a long sigh beside him.

“And your friend had a copy of this, then?”

Tenma blanched, but he knew Grimmer didn’t mean anything by it. Gillen’s work as a criminal psychologist meant that pieces like this were fairly par for the course; in a way, Tenma admired his ability to keep with it, neither abandoning empathy in the process nor becoming overwhelmed by the vast darknesses he saw. Gillen toed a dangerous line, but did so with an unshakable mind.

What appeared on the following page was a list of indexed chapters. Each were only a few pages in length, their titles betraying some small clue as to just what nature of experiment the study contained - “Four Light Test”, “Black Box”, “Differential Perception” and more. Grimmer had pulled his own writing journal and set it next to the book, undoubtedly ready to take note of anything that seemed prudent. He traced down the index, stopping at the page number for one particular chapter. Tenma’s eyes veered left, to glance at what it was that had caught Grimmer’s attention.

“Effects of Media Messaging?”

“The readings. Those book readings...for myself and others in Kinderheim, and the Red Rose Mansion, those books were used to change us somehow.”

Tenma nodded solemnly. He recalled something from Detective Suk as well - that he and Verdemann had been interviewing men that had undergone those reading sessions in the Red Rose Mansion. This study probably had some sort of relevance to it.

Grimmer flipped to the indicated page.

_It is a long known fact that media shapes the views we have, whether it be sourced from the news we are fed (stories altered to suit the correct political message) or fictional tales, memoirs, music and art. The nature of the media may change its effects and of course its effectiveness; this study aims to analyse these methods to determine the degree of impact these media forms may have._

_The first round of tests were performed with the use of fairy stories. Children who grew up with parents reading the works of the Brothers Grimm and similar fables (Group A), and children with little to no such influence (Group B), were asked a number of questions. Expectedly, youths with and without experienced a different mental growth; those familiar with such cautionary tales admitted to a fear of experiencing the punishments depicted in those fairy stories and expressed a desire to adhere to the principles of “good” children, to be rewarded as the heroes and heroines of the fables. Those unfamiliar with the stories carried bolder attitudes and a very different worldview; “good” deeds are not rewarded simply for goodness, in their eyes, and “bad” is not punished if it isn’t found out._

_Prior to the interview, both sets of children were ushered into a small room with the same provisions: two books (one picture book, one short written story) and a plate with cookies. They were asked to wait for twenty minutes. Children from Group A did not touch the cookies, and most often gravitated toward the picture book. When the interviewer entered the room, some would ask to have a cookie while others waited for the interviewer to offer them. In the case of Group B, children were more indulgent. They would not be told to wait in a room with cookies if they were not allowed to eat them. There seemed to be a split here in Group B; one-third opted to pick up the short story, while half did not read at all. The rest opted for the picture book._

_The second part of this test was several months in the works. Participants from Group A and Group B were issued reading materials and engaged in readings of differing frequency. Each group was split into three; Evening Readers, Weekly Readers and Interval Readers. Books were read to the children of each group subset accordingly; once per week, once each evening, or once every three days._

_Each book contained different types of characters; a wicked thief who steals from a family until they have nothing to feed themselves and promptly leaves them behind; a kind girl who is tricked by her friends to fetch delicious fruit from a dark cave and is unable to find her way out; and a monster who is bullied by humans until he becomes angry and burns down their homes._

_The narratives are intended to be contrary to the typical messaging of childrens’ fables, and were designed specifically for the purposes of this type of test. What was learned from_

There was a heavy sigh, and Grimmer sat backward, closing his eyes. He looked tired, and Tenma couldn’t blame him for it. Between the scientific dialogue of the book making his head swim and the way it addressed these experiments as though they were in any way genuine and legitimate was nauseating.

“It seems to be framed innocently enough at first, doesn’t it? But…this second part, I’m almost sure of it...that those books...that they were titles penned by Bonaparta.”

Tenma didn’t say anything, not that he knew what could even be said. He couldn’t be sure that these experiments were related to Kinderheim at all; it was possible that they _were_ official, that families signed waivers for their children to participate in a social study. The framing of the experiment certainly led him to that default conclusion; it made sense then that Behrman’s work went unquestioned at first.

They kept reading, that sense of dread rising heavier between them. The experiment went on to document not just the use of storybooks like Bonaparta’s, but video programming; a small sample of subjects were exposed to the same sort of treatment as the readers, watching “short movies” designed to instill specific beliefs in its viewers.

Grimmer absorbed it all with a completely unwavering expression; cold, not like himself, but practiced - he was trying to stay focused, trying to stay relaxed, but it was a thin facade. His shoulders were hunched forward, his spine locked into a tense curve. Every movement was rigid, or so minute it was almost nonexistent. He was taking slow and purposeful breaths, releasing them over time, trying to ease his nerves. But trying to read something like this...

“Why don’t we call it a night.”

Tenma spoke cautiously, watching the way Grimmer tensed briefly at the sound of his voice, only to relax once more, lifting his gaze from the pages to turn towards his friend. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came; it looked like he wanted to protest, but couldn’t formulate the words.

“It’s okay to pace yourself. The book isn’t going anywhere, and it’s late. Don’t force this.”

Grimmer took a moment, still looking with that uncertain gaze, before he finally relented with a small smile and a nod. He leaned back, his posture becoming easier, more comfortable than the tense hunch before.

“You think I’m trying to absorb too much at once.”

“I do.”

Grimmer half-laughed at his frankness, but didn’t seem to object to it. Slowly, and a little reluctantly, Grimmer closed the book and stood up, craning backwards. The distinctive pops along his spine and subsequent sigh of relief certainly spoke toward his tension.

“I haven’t remembered anything else. Behrman, and that room...but, I suppose it might take a little more than a few hours of reading.” 

Tenma started toward the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder and beckoning. Grimmer managed a smile that, though tired, seemed grateful at least. Tenma headed into the adjoining bathroom to wash and change, sighing as he splashed water over his face. He looked so brow-beaten and tired. How Grimmer could manage to wear a perfect smile even when he was hurting was something that the doctor simply couldn't understand. Looking into his reflection's eyes, all he could see was a deep pool of sorrow. Something that Grimmer probably saw, too. 

He stepped back out, half-fighting his way into his nightshirt and sitting on the end of the bed, lying backward slowly with an exhausted mumble. Too many things had happened in the last two days for him to keep up; he hadn’t felt this tired since chasing after Johan. Though, in fairness, at least here he was able to lie comfortably in a warm bed at his own leisure.

He felt the mattress depress as Grimmer sat down, fitting into his sleepwear silently. Tenma just lay there with his eyes closed, managing to relax as he felt faint movements across the bed. Grimmer yawned, a yawn that was passed on to him, causing both to chuckle quietly. Tenma rolled onto his side, pulling his legs up and onto the bed as he squirmed himself toward the blanket, glad to drop his head into the soft embrace of a fresh-smelling pillow. He reached blindly toward the lamp on his side of the bed to flick it on, satisfied by the faint _click_ and the mild glow that illuminated the room. He opened an eye, looking toward Grimmer.

“Could you get the..” He trailed off, gesturing toward the overhead light that was still on. Leaving the lamp light on helped for Grimmer, but too bright and Tenma himself wouldn’t be able to sleep. The other man nodded, stepping to the other side of the room to flick the switch. The shimmer beyond his eyelids darkened, and he soon felt Grimmer beside him again, getting comfortable under the blankets.

Tenma rolled just a little nearer, reaching blindly until he found some part of Grimmer beneath the polyester sea. He let fingers trace slowly until he found a hand, loosely entwining his fingers with Grimmer's. A gentle reminder that his dreams could do no harm, that his phantoms would have to pry Grimmer from his unyielding grip.

Whatever happened to him in the past, he was safe here. He was protected.

"Goodnight, Kenzo."

"Goodnight."

The feeling as Grimmer took his hand in full told him it was understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say that Behrman was horrible....nasty nasty man. Though coming up with the book stuff was a little interesting in a weird way...
> 
> I had to give them a soft moment at the end ;; that's a lot of sad for one chapter


	5. Fragments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could NOT think of a chapter title for this that was halfway decent. Also I apologise this took so long to get out! It was a harder chapter for me to write and then I couldn't use my computer for a few days and had to write on my phone... 
> 
> There are some unsettling themes but nothing more than previous chapters. First part is Grimmer's pov then it goes back to Tenma.

When Grimmer woke, it was with a quiet panic. The bleariness of his first waking moments in pitch darkness were peppered by the alarming realization that he couldn’t move, that his body was locked in position. He fought the shape above him, twisting, struggling against the oppressive weight until he finally managed to lurch himself forward, catapulting into wakefulness. 

With a steady drumming in his chest, his mind slowly relaxed, returning to reality. He was not suffocating. Certainly he was trapped, but it was a prison of his own making - blankets had somehow cocooned him during his slumber. Even knowing he was safe, those vague sensations had brought unpleasant images to mind; flashes of light, the heavy thud of a door, quiet crying. Even with the low orange glow from Tenma’s bedside, the darkness seemed to encroach around him. Swallowed him.

Grimmer stood slowly, carefully. Tenma was a bit of a light sleeper at times; he wanted to avoid disturbing the man if he could. He walked to the adjoining washroom, pulling the door closed behind him and flicking on the light. It burned just a little and he winced, but burning bright was better than the feel of being ensnared in unrelenting darkness. Splashing water to his face, he stood in front of the sink, staring at the man in the mirror. He knew it was him, but right at the moment, that face looked strangely alien and unfamiliar. 

He was starting to remember things, now. Slowly...small details...but they were starting to return to him. And while that was what he _wanted,_ it was also a bit alarming. Over time, “Grimmer” had become a certain person. The person that Tenma knew, and that those boys knew, too. In recovering his lost memories, there was always the chance that Grimmer...that parts of himself might change. Or...alternatively, that person in his past would feel more and more like a stranger. And that was something that...right now...felt like a lot. 

Learning about his past...was a good thing. It was what he had dedicated himself to. But there were consequences to it that, now, he was realizing were harder to come to grips with. As a person, he was in a state of flux. That person in the mirror...that was only so much of him. Slowly adding missing experiences...what would he learn about himself? That he hated to cook...or detested the smell of grass...that he was afraid of dogs. If he learned things like that...then the person in his memories would become someone different from himself. He was simply an imposter who stole that boy's body. 

Grimmer stared hard into his reflection’s eyes. Regardless of what he found in his past, he...was himself. In absence of those childhood years, he had molded himself to become something else, and that was okay. But that boy...deserved to be seen. That part of himself was allowed to exist, now, too. If, in the end, he shared nothing in common with that boy...then at the very least, that child would see his justice.

When Grimmer opened the door again, it was to see Tenma sitting up in bed, in a state of sleepy uncertainty. He blinked slowly toward the blonde, though said nothing for now. Grimmer closed the distance again, moving to sit down at the end of the bed. He could hear and feel as Tenma shifted a little closer. Even if he wasn’t saying anything, the question was heavy in the air. Grimmer relented, lowering his gaze.

“I’m okay now.”

He allowed the implication that he had been distressed before to be heard. There was a quiet moment, then a slow exhalation from Tenma.

“Dream…?”

By now, that seemed to be what Tenma expected by default. The terrors had gotten better with the light on, but both men understood it wasn’t a proper solution, that he would still have lapses. Grimmer closed his eyes, laying his hands flat behind him, feeling the softness of the blanket beneath his palms, the cushioning mattress below. He breathed in slowly through his nose.

“Maybe. But I think...something was triggered. I got tangled up in the blankets, and it made me remember things. Little things.”

This wasn’t the sort of memory he could easily describe. It wasn’t visual; what he remembered was the feelings and the sounds. His fingers curled in the blanket a little and he closed his eyes.

“ Something was weighing me down and I couldn’t move. There was a heavy sound, a big door...a voice...and I think...I was crying.”

He quieted then, trying to put the rest of it to words. It wasn’t tangible enough, not yet. But there was a _feeling_ he’d gotten, something he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t quite fear...it was bigger than that, big enough that he himself had felt small. He bunched his hand in the blankets.

"I wanted... _needed_...to escape."

Tenma made a small sound in his throat, muffled and subtle. A hand lay gently over Grimmer’s fisted hand, drawing small circles against his knuckles. He still didn’t speak, but there was a sense of urgency in the gesture; something that, as late as it was, Grimmer couldn’t quite decipher. But that touch felt strangely heavy, weighted. A weight that spread beyond his hands, settled heavily in his body. Grimmer looked down, pulling both hands to rest in front of him.

“Behrman...was a horrible person. Took the lives of three children to punish his ex-wives, and damaged countless many more. Children that were punished for something they never did. That should have been protected. How anyone could use them that way...I can’t imagine it. I can’t imagine a person could be like that. And for it to be legitimized by the government...every...every child should be able to feel safe.”

Tenma sat forward, laying a hand on Grimmer's shoulder. With just the slightest pull, he drew the taller man backward, so that his head rested on the pillow. Tenma lowered to his elbow, so he was looking down at Grimmer from only a very slight elevation. His thumb drew lightly into his shoulder.

"What we're doing won't save the children of Kinderheim who suffered, but it _will_ give them justice. We're learning everything we can. We're doing all we can for them."

His voice soothed Grimmer's vulnerabilities in those early, unsteady hours. It didn't feel like _enough,_ nothing felt like it would be enough, but dwelling on it would do little more to help him. Now was the time to sleep.

* * *

It was comforting not to wake alone that morning. Even with his eyes closed, Tenma could feel the warmth that radiated from the other side of the bed. Grimmer seemed peaceful now, not like when he woke in the middle of the night. Arguably Tenma should have expected something like that; they’d spent enough of that evening consuming information that - as Gillen had put it - would probably awaken some sort of memory in Grimmer.

There was only so much that Tenma could do for him. And what he described...only made the doctor queasy. With Gillen’s analysis hanging over his head, anything that Grimmer said - any memory that surfaced - was tainted by a certain amount of Tenma’s own paranoia. He really wished he could go back, could simply have told Gillen that it wasn’t his place to expose Grimmer’s secrets without him present. As it was now, he found himself expecting the worst - preparing himself, in a way, for if that came to be true.

But what that could mean for Grimmer, who was slowly starting to remember…

It was fragmented now. Coming in bits and pieces, feelings and sounds and images. What about when that picture became clearer? For Grimmer to know, to _see_ those memories, witness his own abuse through a lens like that…

Gillen’s warning had been apt. More than likely Grimmer already knew and understood those consequences, accepted them regardless; _Tenma_ was the one who couldn’t stomach it. But he _had_ to. Even if it was painful, he intended to stay by Grimmer, to see this through. And even though Grimmer seemed strong, Tenma had a feeling that...he really _did_ need support. Even just someone to stay with him, to encourage him in small ways.

That was why Tenma started their morning with something comfortable and familiar, something they both took enjoyment in.

There was a calm atmosphere in the kitchen as the two set about on what promised to be a small cooking adventure. Grimmer had commandeered the stove to make a simple - but charmingly familiar - breakfast of eggs and bacon, while Tenma kneaded together a doughy mixture, his hands powdered white with a thin dusting of flour.

It was quiet work, but there was comfortably nonverbal communication between them now and then - a brief holding of gazes as Grimmer handed the butter over to Tenma, small blunders as one lightly nudged the other in the mildly cramped space, the little smiles that loosened their faces. There was a presence about the entire procedure, a feeling of livelihood and relaxation that allowed both men to breathe.

Tenma cut triangles of dough, placing them neatly on a baking sheet as the enticing smell and sizzle of cooking bacon brought the man to pause, sighing almost needfully. He closed his eyes, allowing the aroma to surround him for just a moment before he took the baking sheet, politely encroaching on Grimmer’s space with a nudge. The taller man stepped aside, allowing him to deposit his goods in the oven. He flicked the light on, setting a short timer so he could check their progress. It was all very...routine, but comfortingly so; at least engaging with something he found familiar, he could get his mind off of more painful topics.

“Sunny side up for you?”

“Please.”

The delight from both parties in such a small exchange certainly spoke toward the benefit of spending their morning running through mundanities. Tenma had no doubt that continuing Behrman’s book was the first thing on Grimmer’s mind that morning, but he also knew it wasn’t healthy to focus solely on the very thing that caused him so much distress the night before. 

Tenma went to the fridge, pouring a glass of water for himself and a glass of orange juice for Grimmer, bringing both to the table. He took a quick glance at the progress of his scones, doubling time left on the timer before he helped Grimmer plate up their meal. Grimmer received the lion’s share of the bacon, but then Tenma never had as much of an appetite for it as the other man.

“Just what is it you’re baking…?”

Grimmer was content to keep their conversation simple, keep focus on the task at hand. He seemed to have the same idea as Tenma - that for now, they were enjoying a reprieve. Tenma brought his plate over to the table, settling in to eat. 

“Cheese scones. A treat an old friend of mine from my college days enjoyed quite a bit…”

It was just one among a number of treats Tenma hadn't had the time to indulge in lately. Scones were a fairly simple one to execute - not so time consuming as to waste an entire day, but just enough to give them a calm morning before they resumed their reading. 

Grimmer hummed in response, taking a sip of his juice. There was a genuinely refreshed look about him, though he was certainly keeping a degree of tension to himself.

“In that case, I’d like to have one before we get back to work. While they’re hot and fresh.”

It was relatively quiet while they ate, both men enjoying the fruits of one another’s labour. There was an amount of apprehension, though; an awareness that Tenma couldn’t continue to ignore. He set his fork down, looking at his plate.

“Are you feeling better this morning?”

Grimmer continued to eat, nodding after a while and swallowing down his food with another sip of juice. Blue eyes lifted toward Tenma, disciplined and unreadable.

“If you’re asking me whether I’m in a fit mind to continue, I think so, yes.”

He spoke quite plainly, and Tenma glanced away. That _had_ been the intent of his question, but he’d thought he was a little subtler than that. Grimmer didn’t seem bothered at all, though, his face shifting to something a little more thoughtful.

“I think it’s probably normal for me to be a little more affected by things right now. I’m exposing myself to a lot...and the intent is to remember something upsetting, so there are bound to be times where I’m especially vulnerable. That sort of thing won’t stop me. And I have you here, to keep me grounded.”

He glanced Tenma’s way, his lips turning up into a soft smile.

“I know that it’s important not to get obsessed. I won’t go that far. But the longer I put this off, the more it's going to haunt me. This is something I have to do.”

Tenma...Tenma couldn't argue with that. He understood what this was for Grimmer; something so important he was willing to risk everything...and after all Tenma had done in the name of tracking down Johan, who was he to say otherwise? His place was as a spectator, a support. He would keep Grimmer from falling. He had no place trying to hold him back.

They cleaned the table in relative silence, washing the dishes and setting them aside to dry. Tenma retrieved Behrman’s book with only slight apprehension, and the two dove back into its murky depths.

It wasn’t quite as daunting, this time around. Perhaps because it wasn’t late night reading on empty stomachs, or perhaps because they were still experiencing the higher points of the morning. Still, the modesty of the text was unnerving; everything was structured with the implications of a small working group giving expressed written consent to a number of studies. Even if the studies were genuine, they would later become the model for the likes of Kinderheim. An entire theoretical piece even laid the groundwork for memory alteration, the process that Grimmer and other survivors underwent throughout their stay in that hell.

Grimmer was wearing his practiced smile; whether out of any attempt to hide, or simply because of an uncertainty in himself, it wasn’t Tenma’s place to ask. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Experiments like these were certainly beneficial toward the study of the human mind, but even in a carefully controlled setting, the long-term effects can damage behavioural growth in children. The case of 'Little Albert' in the 1920s sparked quite a bit of controversy over the issue. Waivers were used to keep the responsibility for the aftermath on the subjects themselves, but in the case of child participants, it’s the parent who holds that authority. Very often, adults forget how impressionable and vulnerable children are to conditioning. And of course, coercion and blackmail were common factors. Nowadays, it’s much more difficult to authorize this sort of behavioural study. Even so, Behrman was able to find support and funding while simultaneously using very similar techniques to... _enrich_ the Kinderheim curriculum. And that in turn benefitted his own personal studies. It was something of a self-sustaining cycle that led to Behrman's professional success.”

There was a dryness in Grimmer’s tone that had a distinctively bitter sound. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the text as though his gaze might somehow reach the author himself. His body seemed more tense, defensive.

“I remember what his voice sounded like. He had a soft way of speaking, and he coughed a lot. I think I saw him quite often. He was probably a primary instructor. I think he might have monitored us individually, or in small groups. Four...four is an important number.”

Tenma took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. None of what Grimmer was saying held much meaning now, but more details were coming to him; the fact he could recall a _voice_ was beyond incredible; usually the voice was the first thing forgotten. The man narrowed his eyes, staring unfocusedly at a passage about using emotional cues as a measure of subjects’ responses.

“There's one thing that bothers me, Tenma. Something that I never did understand. My memory has always been so hazy, except where Steiner is concerned. I latched onto that program so strongly that it became a part of me. But I can't quite understand it...why I was allowed to watch such a show. In a place whose purpose was to produce perfect soldiers to serve the East...a program like that...seems a bit strange, don't you think?”

It was something Tenma had long wondered. Just the same as he had to wonder about Grimmer's weekly cocoa. He had a few ideas, but none were pleasant. Even so, Grimmer was waiting for an answer. Tenma looked down.

“I'm not the best person to ask that question. I don't want to add any uneducated guesswork to any mounting paranoia.”

Grimmer waited a moment, nodding slowly in resignation. He turned to glance out the window.

“I think it might be a system of reward. Those of us who performed better for our instructor would be rewarded. Even in a disciplined, totalitarian environment like Kinderheim...rewards make a good measure to succeed. The carrot and the stick, used interchangeably.”

“ _Don't_ talk like…”

Tenma trailed off, his face turning down at the realization he'd interjected. He swallowed thickly, very much aware of the tension in his chest. He tried again, hands bunching in his lap.

“I'm sorry. It's just...that sort of talk…”

“It sounds a bit vulgar, doesn't it? Barbaric. Almost like we boys were animals. But you see, doctor...in their eyes, that's exactly what we were. We were the equivalent to dogs being trained. Rewarded if we performed our tricks. Punished for failure to comply. And a child in that place could only hope to do our best. I use that ugly language because it's the ugly truth, and it should be known.”

Tenma closed his eyes, the tight coil in his chest only constricting tighter. His throat was unbearably dry, no matter how much water he drank. Just the idea those boys could be treated like that…

“I think that the dark room might be a place that we were punished. If seeing the door made me so afraid...but...I still see nothing. I know there are powerful feelings inside that room, but even so...my mind won't let me see.”

Tenma took a deep breath, shaking his head.

“It's going to take time. This sort of thing... you're talking about years of lost memory. Gillen’s book might have answers, but that doesn't mean it's going to refresh your mind overnight.”

Grimmer quirked a brow, tugging lightly at the collar of his shirt in idle curiosity.

“No, that's definitely true. But it does beg another question, now that you mention it.”

Blue eyes lifted toward Tenma. He could see something calculated there, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“I wonder if Gillen...if he might be able to provide further help for me. What he was able to do for the Fortner girl…”

Tenma opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, closing it again. He lowered his gaze. In truth, he was _glad_ to hear Grimmer make that suggestion. Not only was Gillen a trusted friend, he was also probably the only person Tenma could think of that might be able to really help piece Grimmer back together. But even so, he couldn’t show his own thoughts; this had to be a decision reached by Grimmer alone. He had no sway here.

“I’m not sure that a direct confrontation with my memories is the wisest thing...I’m sure that’s what you’re worried about. But I think...it’s probably the fastest way to recover something like that. And if he’s someone that you trust, then I think...I would be willing to trust him.”

Tenma clasped his hands together, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He lifted his eyes toward Grimmer’s, fixing him with a severe look.

“Doing this means exposing your past to another set of eyes. There’s a chance he could see everything. Are you sure…is that something you’re comfortable with?”

Grimmer gave no outward hesitation, eyes falling back down toward the text in front of him.

“I guess that’s a difficult question to answer. I’m not entirely sure just what he might find, after all. But I think, looking at my options, I’m willing to let him have a peek. I’m willing to take that risk.”

Tenma nodded, relaxing backward. If that was Grimmer’s decision, then...it looked like they were making another trip to Munich.

"I'll call him. We'll set something up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Little Albert experiment was something I learned about back in Uni....seriously unnerving
> 
> I've been debating whether or not Tenma/Grimmer are a pre-established Thing and keep going back and forth lmao...I think - especially based on how this chapter worked itself out - it's probably more like...they both have feelings and are sort of aware of each others' feelings but no one has actually said anything so they're just very comfortable w/ being especially fond to each other.


	6. (Not) Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty unpleasant; lots of mentions of child abuse/past psychological abuse and discussion of sexual abuse.
> 
> Also @ any of the psychology: I am definitely not an expert here, take it with a grain of salt

“You know what could happen, Tenma.”

It was a warning that felt directed more toward him than it was toward Grimmer. Gillen had said it before; he was worried just as much about _Tenma’s_ wellbeing as he was Grimmer’s exposure to his past. The prospect of having Gillen guide the Kinderheim alum through the memory that plagued his nightmares was more than a bit daunting. It was too soon to say what happened in that place, but by the vague descriptions that Grimmer had been able to recall, immersing himself in it was probably going to be hard on him. This wasn’t just _remembering;_ it was a state of experience. Grimmer would be reliving that moment in his childhood almost like it was fresh. And that was something Tenma was afraid of.

Not knowing was horrible. It was an unknown Grimmer shouldn't be forced to live with. But Tenma only felt more anxious about this. Not having answers was unfair, it was bad, but to be _absolutely_ certain, to know irrefutably what Behrman did to Grimmer, could be worse. It meant what they found would be the absolute truth.

Tenma lowered his head, fingers grasping a little tighter around the telephone as he breathed into the receiver.

“I know. I know that. But he’s right; the longer this is put off, the more harm it will do. He had another dream last night. Worse, more vivid than the first one. I don’t think it’s going to get better until he has answers. And you’re the _only_ person I can trust with this.”

There was airy silence over the phone, and Tenma could almost feel a certain curiosity from his friend. His lips drew into a sharp line.

“I’m not talking about this one. Not now. I said too much before."

He paused, lowering his voice.

"If I could ask one more favour… _don’t_ record what he says. I understand it's how you keep track, but this isn't for you or for me. This is private.”

Gillen waited a moment, then sighed.

“...Of course. This is a personal request, not my work; I won’t be keeping any record without his consent. As for the dreams...I’ll be seeing the both of you soon; if he wants to open up about them, then that’s a topic to be discussed later. But for now...I can fit you in on Thursday, if that’s suitable. I don’t have any lectures that day.”

“That should be just fine for us.”

A hum of approval.

“I trust you’ve taken to Behrman’s book.”

Tenma’s sharp exhale was answer enough on its own. He swapped the phone to his other hand, shaking his head in distaste.

“To be honest, I think it might be why Grimmer had that dream in the first place. It’s hard to read knowing...knowing what that sort of data was being used for.”

A heavy exhale from Gillen’s end.

“Like I said, he was a man who gazed too deeply into the abyss and was swallowed by it instead. There is a very thin line to walk when addressing the human mind.”

There was another pause, a heavy silence that neither broke for a short moment. Gillen drew a sigh that was heard over the absence of any sound, lowering his voice just so.

“And that _other_ thing I gave you?”

Tenma’s throat constricted and his gaze flicked to the other room. Grimmer had left him to his call in private, but all the same, he watched the door as though it might fly open any minute. He, too, lowered his voice.

“I haven’t shown it to him yet. I don’t think...right now…”

“It might not be a good time. Frankly, I’m inclined to agree. I won’t mention it when we meet.”

Tenma swallowed thickly, nodding to himself. “Then we’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thursday.”

* * *

There was a certain amount of paranoia about the two men as they made their way to the meeting with Gillen. Tenma was fairly certain that any involved parties that might be keeping an eye on them had their eyes elsewhere, but as Grimmer was fond of saying, they couldn’t be too careful. But, Gillen didn’t keep them waiting; if nothing else, he was punctual. 

He brought them to his office, stopping in the reception area and gesturing them to take a seat. Both Grimmer and Tenma sat with a certain level of wariness as Gillen closed the door.

“I’d like to begin by making one thing clear, and to make a recommendation. Understanding the exact nature of what I can do for you is important; what you’ll be seeing is entirely up to what your own mind is willing to reveal. Hypnosis is no catch-all fix-it, but with guidance, I may be able to augment the images and sounds struggling their way to the surface. That said, what you see will be very much _real_ to you. You’re not Wolfgang Grimmer sitting here in front of me, but the boy fighting to survive in 511 Kinderheim. Myself and Doctor Tenma will be directly exposed to it all. What you experience will translate to us. Knowing all of that, are you willing to continue?”

Tenma could feel Grimmer’s eyes on him and turned to catch that gaze. Grimmer seemed to be scanning him, looking perhaps for uncertainty. When he found none, he nodded. Gillen clasped his hands in front of him.

“Then for the recommendation. My advice would be that we take this exposure incrementally, in short installations. Of course, that’s assuming you want to continue after this experience. Taking breaks between sessions will help promote a natural growth in your memories and gives you time to digest what you learn.”

There was a nod from Grimmer, and Gillen stood once more, heading toward his office proper. He pushed the door open, gesturing for both men to step inside.

Gillen’s setup was relatively underwhelming, though in fairness, Tenma wasn’t very familiar with how this sort of hypnotic state worked. He supposed they didn't need any sort of special equipment. Grimmer was sitting in a chair opposite to Gillen, under low, gloomy light. Tenma stood a ways behind his former classmate, still in view, but out of the way. Grimmer was relaxed, but seemed apprehensive. Tenma could feel it too, a weight that choked the air. Only Gillen seemed immune, but for him this was probably par for the course. Grimmer’s case was...probably minor, compared to other experiences. As per their agreement, Gillen wasn’t recording their session. He just sat there with his hands clasped neatly in his lap, looking at Grimmer.

“Before we begin, I should add; we are working in a carefully _controlled_ environment. If at any point what you see becomes too much, any external stimuli should wake you. Both myself and doctor Tenma will be watching you every step of the way.”

He waited, saying nothing more until Grimmer gave an affirmative nod. Gillen sat backward, fingers still laced together.

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

There was kindness in his tone, an understanding that this wasn’t easy for anyone. Grimmer looked over the man's shoulder toward Tenma, who could only nod his head, couldn’t even muster a smile of encouragement. Grimmer’s hands tensed just a little, then he lowered his gaze.

“I’m ready.”

Gillen leaned forward, his hands resting under his chin now.

“All right. I need you to close your eyes, Grimmer. Think back to what you remember. I want you to picture it in your mind, and then I want you to _be_ there. Tell me where you are."

There was silence for a few moments, Grimmer simply sitting and breathing. His lips twitched once, and he swallowed.

"511...Kinderheim. A hallway...my arm hurts. He's pulling me by the arm...crushing my hand. He won't let go. Taking me...taking me away."

Gillen nodded slowly, relaxing his hands a little.

"Good. That's good. Think about the hallway around you. Feel the hand that’s pulling you along. Tell me about it. Do you know this person? What's the hall like?”

Tenma’s gaze was rigidly focused on Grimmer, unwavering, blinking only when he remembered to. The taller man seemed at ease for now, though there was a small spasm in his right forearm, a twitch of his lips. His breathing was normal, though. Everything was normal for now.

“I...I know him. Whenever I watch The Magnificent Steiner, he's always there...but I don't know where he's taking me. He won’t let go. The hall looks empty...but I can hear things. Distant voices. There’s a big fan that makes a lot of noise...and a window.”

“And do you see anything through the window?”

Grimmer was quick to shake his head. “I don't care about the window. I just want to stop. The door is getting closer. The door at the end of the hall.”

There was another spasm in his arm. Grimmer unclenched his fist, then clenched it again. He seemed tense, more disconcerted than before. Gillen still retained a cool head, unaffected.

“Tell me about the door. Anything that you notice.”

Grimmer was quiet for a moment, taking a slow breath in. There was a slight shudder in his exhale, and Tenma felt his thumb twitch, fought the mild pangs that ached at his chest.

“It’s big and heavy. Not like the other doors, this is a special room. It’s...he’s opening it. It’s pitch dark inside, I can’t see anything. I..."

Grimmer broke off, shuddering again, letting out a small sound of distress. Gillen narrowed his eyes.

"Did something happen when he opened the door?"

Grimmer worked through a few heavy breaths. He was visibly a little more distressed now.

"He...pushed me inside and closed the door. I can't see anything, and I can’t move...my arms won’t move. And there’s a click...”

Grimmer was still doing all right. Despite the shake in his voice, he still remembered his breathing. Even so, Tenma kept a close eye on him. His hand was shaking, _really_ shaking. Gillen pressed on, keeping with a calm voice.

“You’re afraid to be in the room. Do you know why?”

Grimmer exhaled slowly, just a little laboured. He shook his head.

“All right. Why don’t you tell me what you can about the room. You can’t move?”

Both of Grimmer’s hands were clenched into fists now, but he nodded in answer. He took a few more deep breaths, allowing himself to steady just a little.

“It's small and quiet. I can hear...there are voices. It’s muffled...they’re...not coming from inside the room. It’s through the wall. But it's...something doesn’t feel right. My head...feels like something’s...”

He tensed, freezing just then. 

“Someone else...breathing. S...there’s someone here. But that man...locked the door from the outside. There's no other way in, so he was there the whole time...waiting for me.”

“Herbert Behrman.”

Tenma’s lips drew into a line, his jaw tensing as his arms wrapped around his middle, fingers pressing hard into skin. Grimmer shook his head again. He looked...he looked more distressed now.

“I don’t know. I don’t see his face. It’s so dark...but he…”

Grimmer’s shoulders tensed and he swallowed, lowering his head so that his eyes were hidden from view.

“You want to be saved by a strong superhero, but that's impossible. You should know that only the good children are saved. You are not a good child.”

He spoke with a lower, deeper voice. That was probably supposed to be...what the other person was saying to him. Grimmer seemed defensive. Seemed _afraid._

“There...there are lights now. He turned on...there are four lights. But...but that’s not...he...I don’t...I don’t want…”

He was losing composure. Grimmer’s hands were shaking, his head bowed, his breathing starting to lose its steadiness. There was a small sound like a whimper, an almost painful exhalation. Then he swallowed, his shoulders sagging, head turning away.

“He won’t come. I want him to come, but he won’t. Because...I haven't been good. I'm unsuitable. I'm scared but...I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't want him to leave me alone. But...I _am_ alone. I'm alone. I'm alone...”

That was enough. Tenma’s stomach was churning, his eyes stinging. Grimmer was afraid. And he was reliving something awful. That person...Behrman, or someone else, that person was hurting him. Grimmer’s last, desperate words… _he won’t come…_ he meant Steiner. As a boy...as a boy he wanted Steiner to come save him. Tenma’s stomach did another flip, and he stumbled forward, dropping down to his knees in front of Grimmer. His friend was crying quietly, still shaking. Tenma reached out, taking the man’s hands into both of his, bowing forward as he struggled to keep his stomach from growing any more agitated. 

“No. You’re _not_ alone. I’m right here. I’m here with you. Whatever you’re experiencing isn’t...you’re okay. Grimmer, you’re safe. You can come back now. It's okay.”

He could feel Gillen watching him. In the end...it probably would have been better to let the doctor see to Grimmer without Tenma present; they’d been making progress, and he...because he couldn’t stand what he was seeing, he had to step in. It was selfish, but imagining what Grimmer must have been feeling...and seeing...feeling completely alone…

Wet blue eyes met equally wet dark ones. Grimmer slowly stood from the chair, Tenma still holding his hands. The man leaned forward, so that his face bowed into Tenma’s shoulder, nose nestled in his mess of hair. He let his hands slip from Tenma’s, his arms coming up to wrap gently around the smaller man’s body. He stayed like that, breathing slowly, starting to calm with time. He took a particularly deep breath in, letting it out slowly, then relaxed.

“Thank you.”

Tenma swallowed down a choke in his breath, nodding as he returned Grimmer’s embrace. There was a rustle from behind them as Gillen stood, though neither looked his way immediately.

“We’ll stop here. You were able to bring quite a bit to light. All things considered, this was an important breakthrough. For now...how about I get you something to drink. A glass of water helps after sessions like these.”

To his credit, Gillen took the entire display in stride. Then again, this wasn’t quite like his usual sessions; he was doing this as a favour to a friend. There was no need to behave clinically toward them now. Even so, after a short moment, Grimmer did pull back so that he was standing tall again, nodding in response to Gillen’s suggestion.

He and Tenma followed the man back to his office, waiting as he poured them each a glass of iced water. He stopped by Tenma’s side though, looking between the two men. When he spoke, his address was toward Grimmer.

“Do you mind if I borrow him for a minute? We won’t be long.”

Grimmer’s eyes flicked up toward Tenma, questioning. Tenma...had a few ideas what it was Gillen wanted to talk about privately, and did his best to relax, nodding slowly to Grimmer. There was nothing to be suspicious about. But some of this...probably wasn’t for Grimmer’s ears. With the silent reassuring nod from Tenma, Grimmer visibly relaxed.

“Of course. Go ahead. I’d like a minute to collect my thoughts as it is.”

* * *

With Tenma seated at his friend’s desk as he had been before, the atmosphere was...tense, at best. Gillen pulled the door closed behind him, though it didn’t seem to put Grimmer on any sort of alert. At least not visibly. No doubt he’d be watching Tenma later, picking at him if he felt it was important to know the goings-on behind that door. 

For the moment, Tenma found himself staring down into his lap, even as Gillen slowly walked back to take a seat opposite him. It was quiet for a while; Tenma had hoped that Gillen would speak first, but his friend was...waiting. Waiting for the inevitable. Tenma closed his eyes, head drooping further as a weight crushed down on his shoulders. 

“I apologise for how I acted. I sabotaged your work because of my own irrationality. I just couldn’t… _watch_ him like that.”

There was a heavy sigh from Gillen’s side of the desk, long and tired.

“On the contrary, you did remarkably _well._ I might not look it, but I _do_ understand the emotional strain this must have. You care about him. Humans, by nature, loathe to see others in pain. This is only amplified for someone you love. And besides that...I think you were right to call it off.”

Tenma...was a little surprised by that, looking up with questioning eyes. Gillen didn’t even blink.

“Re-integrating traumatic memories is a challenge. The subject can be hurt more than they’re healed, if they aren’t handled carefully, and misplaced antagonism can be channelled onto others. Too much exposure at once is dangerous. Grimmer was able to maintain a sense of stability for the most part, but he was beginning to deteriorate. Shutting down. Whatever it is that happened in that room, he doesn’t want to remember.”

Tenma nodded slowly, his mouth going dry. He stared down into his water, but couldn’t bring himself to drink it. Whatever the memory was...it had made Grimmer feel alone and afraid.

“What…” he breathed, his voice hoarse, “do you think?”

His question was vague, but Gillen seemed to understand. He scowled, hands clasping in front of him as he levelled Tenma with a grim expression.

“I know what you’re looking for, but I’m not in any position where I can give you that answer. It’s too soon to rule out anything. Remember, this is a single, isolated memory. But if you want my professional opinion…”

Tenma’s jaw twitched, his chest clenching again. He nodded, though he wouldn’t look Gillen in the eye right now, trying to focus on keeping calm and composed. The other doctor sat backward.

“It’s cryptic, but what he was able to tell us suggests periods of isolation and physical restraint. He described very specifically that his _arms_ can’t move, and that his head felt strange. He said the room was small, and quiet, and that he could hear muffled sounds from outside. I would wager a guess that he was drugged and restrained in that room. By the sound of it, this probably went on for a while. In that room he’s deprived of human contact and left in a cramped, dark space with nowhere to go. The point is to breed fear. He was _all alone_ , he said. The man feeds him threats - 'no one will save you' - and leaves him to stew on it. Negative reinforcement with no reprieve, nowhere for an outlet. Just imagine what that could do to someone at that age.”

Tenma’s hands curled into fists, but he nodded. Gillen gave him a moment before he kept on in his analysis.

“The sense of urgency changed when the lights turned on. He was afraid before, but when the lights were turned _on,_ he rejected the memory. There’s something that he _saw._ Something the light revealed, that he was desperately afraid of. Or that's my theory, anyway. Remember, I only know as much as you do; this is only a single possibility out of many, so don't stake too much in what I say.”

He broke off, his expression becoming uncomfortable as he drew a hand down the side of his face.

“I’m reluctant to say this, but I know you won't be satisfied if it goes unmentioned. Given what we witnessed just now, my first instinct says that _no,_ rape wasn't involved. Dialogue notwithstanding, there weren’t any familiar tells. Victims will often exhibit particular body language when presented with memories of an abuser; whether that be violence, resignation, or defensiveness. He was tense, yes, but he was calm. That said, we’re viewing an incomplete picture. Barely a single thread in a tapestry. I can’t, with complete certainty, rule out the possibility of sex abuse during his stay in Kinderheim. But I’m at least confident that this particular memory was not sexually exploitative. I might even go as far as to say that Behrman probably never assaulted him. His responses just don’t match up.”

Gillen went silent, the room growing deadly still as Tenma sat for a few seconds and processed what was said.

He had managed to retain a sense of calm until that point, but somehow...hearing those words was what made him finally crack and crumble. 

It was slow to start; the smallest twitch in his shoulders, faint whines that died in his throat. But as soon as it started, it just wouldn’t _stop._ A hand came up to cover his mouth as he fought back shudders, eyes squeezing shut and brows knitting together. Small, half-wheezed sounds pulled from his lungs as barely-concealed gasps that he was only just managing to keep from breaking into full sobs.

He’d thought that...hearing Gillen’s reassurance would help him to relax, but instead it swept him with conflicting pain and relief. Even if sexual abuse remained to be a possibility, Tenma was glad to know that _this_ memory had nothing to do with it. Ever since Gillen first planted the thought, his greatest fear had been exactly that. Grimmer reliving those nightmarish experiences - in dreams or in a controlled environment - only drove those concerns higher. So Gillen’s affirmation was painfully gladdening, releasing built-up worries that Tenma had been holding in. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, its heavy warmth comforting as he struggled to reel himself back in. Gillen didn’t say anything, or Tenma didn’t hear it if he did, but the gentle reinforcement of his friend’s presence helped the doctor slow his breathing. He didn’t want to emerge teary-eyed to see Grimmer again; it would only raise questions. Tenma _wanted_ to have that talk with Grimmer, but...it wouldn’t be fair like this. _Grimmer_ was the one who’d been hurt. His own pain was a side effect, something that would disappear with time. 

"I was the one who put that idea in your head. I didn’t think you would get so fixated, but...I miscalculated. I introduced an angle you hadn't considered, and even the possibility of it scared you. Tenma...I’m sorry. I never meant to make you despair."

The regret was audible in Gillen’s voice. This wasn’t a comfortable situation for him, but he was doing what he could for his distraught friend. After a while, though, the hand on his shoulder shifted, retracting finally as Gillen stood back again.

“Allow me to offer one last bit of advice. For now...I would steer clear of anything concerning those memories. Let him focus on day to day living for a little while. This has to come naturally; if he forces it, the risks will be too high, as I already told you. So you...your job is to be there for him. Be that stability. He trusts you. He _needs_ you.”

Tenma nodded, accepting of his burden. He already knew what part he had to play. Grimmer seemed nonchalant, seemed strong, but there were such fragile pieces to him, pieces that Tenma would safeguard.

He looked back up to Gillen, able to maintain his breathing a little better now than before.

“I don’t know how you’re able to do it. To stay so professional, under these sorts of circumstances. That’s something I don’t think I could ever do.” 

Gillen took his statement with an uncomfortable sigh, looking away, toward the door.

“When you’re in my profession, it’s a minimum requirement. You have to be able to close your heart. Empathy has no place among the fractured pieces of damaged and deranged minds. I have to face people like Grimmer very frequently; I can’t afford to let myself empathize or I risk losing myself. But…”

He glanced back toward Tenma, a fonder look in his eyes.

“If I’m being honest, I envy your heart. You’ve always had such a vividly expressive kindness, even in college. Don’t let that change. Kindness...that kindness of yours is something the world needs.”

Without another word, Gillen opened the door again, leading the way back into the open part of the office. Grimmer looked up from his now-empty glass, and already Tenma could feel the quiet analysis behind those pale, tired eyes. Tenma did his best to block his friend’s keen insight with a neutral facade, but he knew that Grimmer was suspicious. It had been more than “a few minutes”.

“Normally I would open a dialogue with you, but I have a feeling that you’d rather have that talk yourselves. But let me stress to you both that it’s important you still remember normal living. I shouldn’t have to say this, but too much focus on disconcerting memories isn’t healthy. Unfortunately I don’t have much time; I have to start preparing my notes for a lecture tomorrow, but don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll offer my support as needed.”

It was a lighter, more palatable twenty-second summation of what he’d said to Tenma, and Grimmer took it well enough, though he seemed marginally distracted. That, though, was more or less expected. Tenma was the one who finally gave a nod. 

“I’ll be sure to contact you if anything develops.” Not quite true, but not entirely false, either; this was a journey for him and Grimmer to take, but if Gillen’s expertise was needed, then Tenma couldn’t very well refuse.

* * *

The ride back to the hotel was unusually quiet, with both Tenma and Grimmer keeping largely to themselves for the duration of the drive. It wasn’t uncomfortable - all things considered, quiet was probably good for them. Grimmer had undergone a very intense session with Gillen, and needed a bit of time to decompress. And Tenma, for his part...on the one hand, he wasn’t one to interrupt a peaceful quiet; but even he had an occupied mind, stewing over what Gillen had said to him. 

The only break from the silence was in gesture, small touches. Tenma felt it subtly - the brush of fingers against his, barely there, almost like a silent ask. Tenma felt his chest clench again, unsure if it was pain or something else this time, but he answered the gesture in kind. Fingers slowly closed around Grimmer’s, the feeling of that larger hand warm and comforting. The cab driver either didn’t notice or didn’t comment, but they took shared consolation in their quiet communication. Grimmer wasn’t alone. _Wouldn’t_ be alone. And Tenma wasn’t either.

Their room in Munich was a little bigger and a little nicer than the hovel they’d been staying in for a week. There was an immediate wash of relief as they entered the room, but even so, a heaviness stayed in the air. Tenma could feel it; as he removed his coat and hung it up, as he let himself into the bedroom, the weight of the evening wouldn’t leave him be. He lost himself in thought, almost entirely unaware that he'd stopped to just stand there until he felt the nearness of Grimmer coming up behind him.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.”

The sudden dialogue earned a small startle from Tenma, though the doctor collected himself quickly enough. He swallowed, aware of what Grimmer was inciting. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but Grimmer had initiated. The talk was happening now.

Tenma headed into the bedroom, allowing himself to find distraction staring into the mirror, aware of how concerned his eyes looked and how tired he seemed. He hoped he’d have a few minutes to steel himself, but Grimmer didn’t relent. He stepped up behind Tenma, placing a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, with only the slightest of gestures, he coaxed the doctor back to the center of the room. Tenma kept his gaze down for as long as he could, until Grimmer’s coaxing gently lifted his chin, forcing him to look into pale blues.

“He told you something, didn’t he? And you’re keeping it to yourself. But…” Grimmer’s face lightened, taking on a warm smile. “You don’t need to protect me.”

Tenma opened his mouth, then closed it again as he sorted through his thoughts, shaking his head. Grimmer led them back toward the bed, sitting down at the edge and clasping his hands in his lap. He turned his face toward Tenma expectantly.

“You’ve seemed off, since the first time you went to speak with Gillen. I think you did a little more than acquire that book of yours.”

There was nothing accusatory in Grimmer’s tone. He was making an observation, nothing more. And of course he would've noticed; until now, Grimmer was waiting patiently for Tenma to come forward.

“You’re right.” he started, looking down into his lap. “And I owe you an apology.”

Grimmer said nothing. Tenma didn’t look to see what kind of face he was making. He just wrung his hands, letting his hair veil his face as the weight of his body seemed to start crushing forward.

“Gillen...when I asked him about Behrman, he wanted to know more about your memory. I told him about the dream you had. I didn’t ask...I didn’t ask you if that was all right. And before I could say anything he was picking apart your mind. I…” 

Tenma broke off, hands balling into fists. He turned his head away.

“I know I shouldn’t have indulged him. I know that. I can’t just let myself into your memories without...I need to know that you’re okay with that. For _me…_ much less anyone else. Much less Gillen.”

He could feel his stomach squirming. As benign as his intent had been, the fact was that he had opened a door to secrets and let himself in without ever speaking to Grimmer. That alone made him feel _guilty_ , the rest notwithstanding. There was no response from Grimmer; nothing that he heard, at least. He was waiting, then. Waiting for Tenma to continue.

“He offered an impromptu diagnosis. This was all theoretical, just based on the dream. He suggested that it was possible your mind was preventing you from seeing past the door. That it bore characteristics similar to victims of physical, psychological, or even...or sexual abuse.”

Tenma felt a shudder crawl down his spine, his entire body shrinking on itself for a brief moment upon that last utterance. He could barely even stand to say it. Tenma took a deep breath, letting his nails dig into his palms just a little before he released the air in his lungs _slowly,_ relaxing his shoulders. It didn’t stop the unsteady flips in his gut.

Grimmer shifted beside him, sitting forward with his hands relaxed neatly between his knees. There was a coldness about him, a foreboding feeling. His expression was neutral as he stared forward.

“And so...that's what you think happened. That in my memory, Behrman…”

_”No.”_

Tension had returned to Tenma’s shoulders. He still didn’t… _couldn’t_ look at Grimmer, but he was swift to interject, to correct that train of thought. He swallowed dryly. 

“No.” he said again, calmer this time, controlled. “It’s the opposite. When he took me aside, I asked...I asked Gillen what he thought. He said that it can’t be completely ruled out, but that memory...what you keep seeing in your dream...he said that most likely it wasn’t...that you _weren’t._ ” He swallowed shaky breaths, managing to keep himself steady. His vision, though, was starting to wobble, eyes wet despite his best efforts.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. It was hard just to think about, and I wanted to know if it _was_ true before...I didn’t want to plant that possibility without more information. And I...I was afraid. Afraid of what you might remember. Afraid that saying something might awaken certain memories.”

He hated to dance around the subject, but it all left such a sick taste in his mouth. Turned his tongue to lead and filled his stomach with rocks. There was no more he could say now; Tenma’s voice was choked; if he dared to speak, he knew it wouldn’t come across well, not now. He still didn’t look up, not until he felt the gentlest brush of Grimmer’s hand touching his cheek, trying to catch his attention.

He was so... _warm_. And just that, the softness of that touch, was enough. He didn’t make a sound, but two pitiful tears finally started to roll, grieving little things that precluded painful streams. Grimmer’s thumb brushed his cheek gently, and he heard a small sigh.

“Come here.”

The words were spoken barely above a whisper, but left no room to be argued. Grimmer tucked wild bangs from Tenma’s face before his hand shifted, moving to wrap lightly around the doctor’s shoulders. He could feel himself being gently pulled, and allowed himself to melt into the touch, his body giving up as it folded sideways against Grimmer’s shoulder. That guiding hand lifted again, so that now it threaded softly through Tenma’s hair, slowly, methodically.

"He put some pretty scary ideas in your head. What you were afraid of...you were scared that what I would remember...that Behrman might have abused me. That I would be reliving it. Is that right?"

Tenma's answer was a painful wheeze. Grimmer closed his eyes, continuing to thread Tenma's hair in comfort.

“You’ve had those worries on your mind all this time. Bearing it alone…something as horrible as that...it must have been hard.”

Tenma didn’t speak. Beneath such gentle, caring brushes of Grimmer’s fingers, all he could do now was finally, _finally_ allow himself to release those feelings. Tears came quietly, with surprising grace; but then, his half-breakdown with Gillen had already expunged a fair amount of his burden. He allowed himself to bask in Grimmer’s gentleness, eyes fluttering closed. He wanted to speak, but he didn’t know...what he was supposed to say. He was just…

Glad. 

He was _glad._

Grimmer continued threading his hair, helping the doctor to slowly calm. The quiet felt bearable now, easier to manage, but Grimmer had an almost distant look about him.

"I'm not surprised that Gillen might have thought that way. I contemplated the possibility myself quite some time ago. In an orphanage like that, whose internal affairs were kept so quiet, what happened to the orphans not known to the public...it's a likely place for the children to be preyed upon. There would be no repercussions, and victims had nowhere to go. It's certainly a logical conclusion to reach."

Tenma's heart jolted and he looked at Grimmer with wide eyes, a colder feeling settling in his stomach. Grimmer turned a sad little smile his way, his hand stilling once more amidst untidy threads of hair.

"You wanted to protect me from that, if it turned out to be false. You were hoping you could carry that weight so that I wouldn't have to think about it. I can understand that...but you really didn't need to. Like I said, you don't have to protect me. I've contemplated about every possible angle there is; there really isn't much to protect me _from_."

Tenma swallowed, looking down at his lap. He could feel the tension start to rise again, tension he had just been soothed from. Nails dug into palms. Grimmer drew in a deep breath, looking toward the far wall and leaning lightly into Tenma.

"I did consider that possibility...I've done my fair share of research into cases of sexual abuse in East German orphanages. But I really don't think it makes sense. I thought about it...but a place like that...it's true that the children of Kinderheim were especially vulnerable, but we were also given a very specialized directive. A goal reached by a carefully crafted environment. Kinderheim was trying to create a specific sort of person; obedient, and devoid of feeling. Perfect soldiers for a remorseless army. And while it's certainly true that kind of power and domination would degrade the will to resist, a variable like that...something so inherently carnal...it obliterates any sense of order. Kinderheim has no place for it. Wouldn't you say so?"

Tenma...

Didn't know _what_ to think.

Didn't...didn't particularly _want_ to think.

It was clear that Grimmer had put considerable thought into the possibility, and had almost entirely ruled it out. His reasoning made sense...but Tenma couldn't trust his own logic; he would be willing to agree with almost _anything_ if it meant those boys weren't abused. It wasn't _just_ about Grimmer; for every single one of those boys...he wanted to believe. He understood Gillen's caution - that they were only looking at a very vague picture of the past - but he was willing to trust in Grimmer. The man beside him resumed gently threading his hair, seemingly aware of his state of intense distress.

“In any case, if Gillen's statement confirms my own theory, then I'm glad. I think that's a subject we should probably put away, at least for now.”

He was right. Between Grimmer and Gillen, some form of consensus had been reached that put the ugliest, most nauseating of his fears to rest for the time being. Tenma nodded, swallowing and putting an arm around Grimmer in his own gesture of care. For a brief moment, the threading of fingers in his hair stopped. Tenma glanced up through tired lashes, watching Grimmer carefully.

“When Doctor Gillen guided me through that memory, it awakened more parts of my past. More of that memory. There are things I can feel...parts of myself that are trying to emerge. More to my memories. Flashes of sounds and images. That place...I had to answer questions. I answered questions...and if I gave the wrong answer...then I was punished. No one would save me...because I was bad, he said. I was bad...he said that a lot. I felt completely isolated. I didn't want to be alone...so much so that I begged Behrman to stay. But I remember now...he would leave me in there for hours. I wanted someone to be there, even someone like him. I was all alone in that room, but you...you were there to take my hand this time. You reminded me that I'm not alone now. You made me feel safe. Even in that state...you made me feel safe. And I want to thank you for that.”

Tenma heaved a shaky sigh, reaching up blindly to take Grimmer’s hand, the one rhythmically carding his hair. He let his fingers curl around it, bringing it down to hold against his lips. He placed no kiss, said no comforting words; he simply held Grimmer’s hand there, breath puffing lightly against his skin. It was a declaration in its own right, a quiet statement that he was here, that he would provide that blanket of safety as long as it was needed. 

"I still haven't quite figured it out yet...there are parts that are blurry. Parts I don't understand. The questions...the things he would ask...but I'm close. It's close."

Tenma drew his thumb over Grimmer's hand, releasing it once more and sitting back, visibly more at ease now than before.

"Did you want to talk about what you saw? If you think it would help..."

Grimmer's face fell, and he sighed reluctantly, shaking his head. He pushed himself forward, up and away so that he could stand, stretching his legs. He turned a glance on Tenma, unreadable but inexplicably devious. 

"That talk can wait. I think that you...and that I...deserve a break."

There was a twinkle in his eye.

"I'm going to take you to dinner. And this time you'll have to accept."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [breathes] WELL AT LEAST WE HAVE GOOD NEWS....Grimmer's still got a lot to remember but at least the absolute ugliest possibility is mostly wiped out.
> 
> When I was writing the Gillen-Tenma confrontation scene I expected it to go much differently, but Tenma breaking down just makes sense :( He's been holding onto that fear
> 
> Also I know I literally Just said they're not "actually a thing" but like if you want to read it that way you absolutely can because it's just kinda writing itself that way at this point


	7. Four Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new warnings, just more child trauma and abuse of power. People suck tbh
> 
> There is a section where the scene quickly changes, you'll recognize it when you see the '* * *'. It might seem a bit jarring otherwise, Tenma's just flashbacking mid-scene.

The days that followed were uneasy; chaotic at best. Just as Gillen had recommended, Tenma made sure that the two of them didn’t so much as lay eyes on their amalgamated pile of research, or the ominous book published by Herbert Behrman. He made a point to put all of it away, out of sight and unable to tempt them to flip through its pages. There was the occasional yearning look from Grimmer, but he quickly busied himself with something else.

They spent their time relaxing instead. It wasn’t to say that they _hadn’t_ before, but now it was a full-time commitment to being non-commital; time to help Grimmer’s thoughts settle, for Tenma to stop worrying so intensely, for the both of them to just...not _care._

Even so, Grimmer still wasn’t sleeping well.

What comfort the dim light of a bedside lamp had brought before seemed almost completely gone now. Though his distress was quiet, Tenma could most certainly hear the soft grumbles and whispers of breath at night that spoke of an overactive mind. He seemed fine in the morning, but there was always a sense of exhaustion behind those eyes. Tenma didn’t draw attention to it; if he wanted support, Tenma was ready to give it. But Grimmer had to be the one to ask. He was right that Tenma put too much on himself; sometimes Grimmer just...wanted to manage things on his own, and that was okay.

“I could get used to this.”

Grimmer’s lackadaisical tone wafted toward Tenma, who turned his head to look toward his friend, all but aglow under the sun’s rays. He seemed peaceful, at ease under the gentle breeze and the quietly distant chirping of birds, but there was something strangely resigned in how he said it. _Could_ still had a distance to it, an implication of undefined time. In his own way, he was pushing a little; he’d been happy to abide by Tenma’s wishes to relax a short while, but a ‘short while’ was beginning to stretch on just a bit too long.

Tenma smiled, closing his eyes and heaving a sigh.

“It’s the same for me. Afternoons like this...it’s what kept me going, when I had nothing else.”

Grimmer hummed, sitting forward with one leg crossed up across the other, foot bouncing slightly. 

“I think, when this is all over, I’d like to take a very long vacation. Fishing and hiking and sleeping in the sun...I’ll spend my time doing the things I enjoy.” He tilted his head, gaze flicking toward Tenma. “And of course, you’d be welcome to join me. Unless you hope to depart right away, of course.”

Tenma was startled into still silence, mouth agape though he said nothing. Grimmer didn’t seem to notice, going on with that same serene smile.

“I consider myself lucky that you chose to come with me. The MSF would have been overjoyed to have someone of your skill join their ranks, but you decided to help me find closure. And not just you...Lunge, and even detective Suk...what they’ve helped us to accomplish...and now Doctor Gillen, as well. It’s incredibly humbling. But I think it means I have some very good friends, and I’m glad of that.”

The prospects of joining the MSF had gone so far from Tenma’s mind in the last few months - this past week, more than ever - that hearing it mentioned now seemed almost alien. But to Grimmer...that was a very real thing; Tenma had been ready to join the MSF, but had opted to instead go with him on a journey through the past, regardless of its hardships. To him, it had just been a choice that came second nature; to Grimmer, though, that sort of act had a lot more meaning. Acts of friendship, something _real_ like that…

“When it’s all over...we’ll have to all celebrate together, then. We’ll have drinks.”

Grimmer hummed in approval, then went silent again. The two of them stayed quiet for a short while, just enjoying the warmth and the light, though with that silence, Tenma understood there was an unspoken question.

_When would it be over?_

Tenma took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“If you think you’re ready…”

He didn’t specify _what_ he was ready for, but Grimmer understood well enough. He turned a small smile on Tenma, a look that almost seemed relieved. He relaxed his posture, planting both feet and clasping his hands on his knees.

“I was waiting for you to ask that.”

They had learned plenty from Gillen’s guide through the nightmare. Grimmer had mentioned that he remembered _more_ of what happened, had directly mentioned the fear of being left alone in that room. It gave them a direction, an angle to work with. A way to answer those nagging questions; who Behrman was to Grimmer, what happened in that room. And from there, more would fall into place.

And of course...there was that other piece of information. The small folded envelope that Gillen had passed to him before he headed out the door.

Tenma still wasn’t sure that now was a good time to reveal it, but he knew - _absolutely_ \- that to delay it now would only be complicated in the long run. Grimmer was in a better state of mind than he had been before, and with the worst of his fears disproven, he felt it was safer now to show Grimmer what Gillen had found.

He turned toward Grimmer as they made their way back to the hotel.

“There’s something I need to show you, when we get back. Something I’ve been holding onto.”

Grimmer quirked a brow, but he didn’t look particularly worried. The last time they talked on the subject, he seemed to understand quite clearly that Tenma...had been hoping to protect him. Undoubtedly he recognized the same in whatever this new revelation was.

“Received from one Doctor Gillen, I presume…?”

Tenma glanced away, nodding slowly. Even if Grimmer seemed accepting, he was still...well… _guilty,_ he felt just a little bit guilty for keeping any of this secret. 

He supposed it made sense that Grimmer would suspect there might have been more that went on with Gillen; the way he handled their encounter with as much caution as he did only rose suspicions, and right now he seemed to be the main source of information they had.

What Tenma _didn’t_ expect, though, was for Grimmer to head immediately to the bedroom, right to the desk drawer where Tenma had put the envelope. 

He turned with a wry little smile, handing it over to the doctor who took it without saying a word.

“I knew you had it from the beginning, though I found it somewhat by accident. I decided that you probably had your reasons not to bring it up until now, and here we are.”

Tenma nodded stiffly, just a little overwhelmed to know that once again, Grimmer had supplanted his attempt to protect him from certain truths and had known all the while that envelope was there.

“I haven’t read it, of course. So I don’t know what it is that’s inside.”

Tenma was mildly relieved to hear that, at least. Not that he expected Grimmer would have read it; he knew the man could at least respect boundaries. Tenma pursed his lips, leading the two of them back out to sit at the table by the window, though he drew the curtains shut - more a habit now than out of any real suspicion, but it was a safe habit to have.

He took the folded paper out of the envelope, laying it out for the both of them to read.

. . . . .

_Dear Doctor Hartmann,_

_Edward has been doing rather well. He remains to be a quiet boy, but I believe that I will be able to reach him on a deeper level in time. I would like to thank you once more for your continued efforts; it is only through you that any of those children could have hoped to survive. I hope that you have had as much luck with the rest as you did with Edward. It is only to my shame that I could not meet Herr Wolf's project. However once I am done with my present assignment I look forward to seeing him for myself._

_I am wondering however why there is talk of Biermann’s removal? He has supported the orphanage well until this point and I expect no less in the coming years. I wonder if you have information on this subject. Perhaps we may speak on it properly in the coming weeks, once I return to regular duties._

_H.B._

* * *

“Hartmann...you don’t mean…”

“It’s exactly who you think.”

Gillen’s tone was cold, a little disdainful. Dieter’s situation was one that even Gillen couldn’t quite mask distaste toward. But if this letter was what Tenma thought it was...it meant that Behrman was more than just an associate of Bonaparta’s. He had come into direct contact with Hartmann, one of the high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Health and Welfare and the same man that had taken numerous children into his questionable care, methods that only seemed to grow worse after Johan's disastrous influence. As for this Edward…

“He said to me...he mentioned that the boys he took care of were often adopted by important people. Edward must have been...”

He felt ill. Gillen nodded, pushing the envelope toward Tenma.

“That would seem to be the case. Lunge was the one to pass the information to me, shortly before he accepted his teaching position. There was no real record of Hartmann's children; they could be given to anyone. You mentioned yourself those boys were adopted by important families. It’s not difficult to imagine how that happened, knowing who Hartmann was connected to. We don't know how he raised his fosters in the past, but after a point, he was definitely trying to create a second Johan. It could be said that once he was sure that a child was useless to him, they became favour tokens for the wealthy. You know...politicians adopting a child out of sheer ‘goodness’ to improve their popularity, or those who simply can't have their own...that sort of thing. And knowing what sort of treatment they were exposed to with Hartmann...”

Both fell uncomfortably silent.

“So this boy...he was taken under Behrman’s care. It must have been several years ago, Dieter was the last of the children he was looking after when I met with him. But why did Lunge give it to you? And what was this about an 'assignment'…?”

Tenma turned the letter over, looking for anything to date it. There didn’t seem to be anything, but he could at least make a ballpark estimate. Most likely it would’ve been the early 80s, before investigations into Behrman really began. Or earlier than that, by the mention of Reinhart Biermann, still the director at the time. Kinderheim was still standing then, the tragedy yet to happen. As the District Official for the Ministry of Welfare, Hartmann would have been able to cover just about anything up; children who wouldn’t suit the project’s needs could easily be adopted into homes the way many “disappeared” children were in the East.

There was a sigh from Gillen as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know any more than what's written there; I imagine Lunge himself might have more to say on the topic. But you didn’t exactly leave an address when you left with Grimmer. Lunge made the apt assessment that, as a friend, you would be in contact. Though how he knew you would be investigating Behrman is something I don’t quite understand.”

“He and Suk both helped us seize some of the information we have now. He probably had a look at it himself. So when he came across the letter he wanted to leave it with someone that he knew I would trust…”

“And here you are to claim it.” 

* * *

There was a short bit of silence as Grimmer processed the letter, his gaze once again distant. He sighed, though didn’t seem especially bothered to have been kept in the dark.

“So Behrman was friendly with ranking members of the Ministry of Health, an acquaintance of Bonaparta, and - as far as we know - worked alongside Reinhart Biermann. He certainly positioned himself well. And this 'assignment'...I suppose we can make an educated guess as to whose ends it might be serving. But just what it was he might have been doing in that time...that raises even more questions, doesn't it?”

Tenma nodded solemnly, his eyes focused on the slightly uneven scrawl.

“If we were able to speak with him...if he’s still alive...then he would undoubtedly have a lot more answers that could help you progress your memories. More than that, he might hold key information about the inner workings of that place. But…”

“But that’s not something you think should be pursued.”

Tenma admittedly...felt a bit of relief, hearing Grimmer say that. Knowing that he understood Tenma’s perspective was a good starting point, and it meant he didn’t really have to introduce the idea. The doctor nodded, visibly relaxing, his shoulders loosening up.

“No, not right now. We don’t have enough information to track him down even if we wanted to, and we already know that Lunge and Suk are looking into it. If they find anything, we’ll be the first to know.”

Grimmer hummed, turning earnest blue eyes on him.

“I think you’re probably right. If we didn’t have anything of our own to work with, or a valuable resource such as Doctor Gillen, then I might be more inclined to follow up on Lunge’s hint, even if it’s only a shot in the dark. Right now, though, that would be a pretty reckless thing to do...and if Behrman is steeped in the same darkness as Bonaparta and Biermann, we can only assume it might be dangerous to try to approach him. The man himself might be aging, but he still has secrets that certain people would prefer not be made public.”

Grimmer faltered, his smile staying coolly in place.

“If he’s still alive, of course.”

Tenma’s mouth felt just a little dry, but he nodded all the same. He set the letter back inside its folder, standing once more and heading toward the door, tilting his head back toward Grimmer.

“I think it’s worth a talk with Lunge, in the next few days. I don’t expect that he’s found much, or else Gillen would have told me; but at least we can compare notes. And in the meantime…”

“There’s plenty to be done in the meantime.”

There was something just slightly distant in Grimmer’s voice, though not in a vacant way. He had a certain focus about him, and Tenma could almost be sure he knew why. 

With mild reluctance, Tenma retrieved the green volume penned by Behrman, taking it back into the living room. He let Grimmer get settled, going to make them each a quick lunch and a drink. He wasn’t surprised to find Grimmer with the book already open as he returned, but to his credit, he seemed to be waiting for Tenma. The doctor took a seat, setting down a plate of sandwiches and two cups of coffee as he spied over Grimmer’s shoulder, taking note of just what he was looking at now.

“Four Light Test.”

He remembered reading that from the index when they first bothered to read through a few of Behrman’s experiments. They had bypassed this one, but Grimmer had a particularly intent look about him now, as he turned to the identified page. He nodded, though he didn’t look up toward Tenma just yet. He reached absently for a sandwich.

“I believe that what Behrman published in his book might be a variation of what I experienced in the dark room. The questions...and the lights. I thought that this might make those images clearer.”

Tenma nodded, though he felt somewhat apprehensive. They hadn’t talked about the memory, but from what he’d been able to see observing Gillen’s guided hypnosis, it had been something severe and unpleasant. If this had something to do with the lights...that had been the point Grimmer was at his most distressed. He opened his mouth, then closed it again as Grimmer finally looked up, reassurance in his smile as he took a bite from his sandwich.

“I’ll be fine. It’s different now. I’m not experiencing that moment as though it’s happening around me, I’m looking back on something that I know is in the past. And the past can’t hurt me.”

Tenma couldn’t refute that statement. Though, he was just a little embarrassed that Grimmer had known what he was going to say. He nodded slowly, returning his focus to the text on the page as he too took a sandwich.

This particular passage didn’t seem like much; a theoretical piece that discussed “Orwellian” techniques. Tenma couldn’t particularly say he was familiar with any figure by that name. The chapter introduced the notion of “Consensus Reality” - a term he wasn’t familiar with, but by the implications from Behrman’s writing, it seemed like a vast extension on the concept of mob mentality; that if enough people believed in a thing, that thing became their absolute reality. In this particular example, the number of lights in a room.

It was a headache, but it sounded entirely like the sort of rhetoric that belonged in Kinderheim.

“I mentioned this to you before...I said that the number four was important. But I couldn’t figure out why.”

Grimmer’s voice was distant. The look on his face was equally so.

“I think it was the lights. In that small room, Behrman would turn on four bright white lights. He asked me...how many I could see.”

Tenma looked his way, a thick sense of dread settling low in his gut. He remembered that - during his hypnosis, Grimmer had said exactly those words. That there were four lights. But that was also the point when he started to deteriorate. So this was probably...

“He wanted me to tell him there were five. But I didn’t. There were four...there were only four lights in that room...but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. So I would be punished.”

Grimmer said it softly, eyes vaguely focused on some part of the passage he had been reading, but it was clear his attention was focused inward and backward. Tenma felt something sick squirming in his stomach. Something uncomfortable. He asked his question anyway, despite the dread that leadened his tongue.

“ _How_ were you punished?”

Grimmer blinked slowly, concentrating, though he looked just a little lost. He shook his head.

“It’s not completely clear, even now. I told you the parts that I do remember...he would tell me that I was bad, or disappointing. Then the lights would turn off and he would leave. And I think...I think I was there for a long time. Like I said...I was afraid to be alone in there. I think that's because he would leave me alone for hours. He...oh. I know…”

The look on Grimmer’s face shifted. Almost a smile, for a half second, before it fell again.

“I think that sometimes he brought cold food. I was being bad, so I couldn’t eat with the other boys in our group. I think that if I told him there were five lights he would probably have let me go.”

His shoulders fell, blue eyes staring vacantly.

“I’m pretty sure that at some point, I really did see what he wanted me to. I don’t think I would have left that orphanage if I didn’t. But that’s sort of scary to think about…”

Grimmer looked up slowly, toward Tenma who remained silent for now.

“It’s a form of controlling reality...certainly, children are especially susceptible to it. Just as this section reads...the notion is to break down facts and perceptions...make them unimportant. Logically I understand that there are four lights, that’s what I can see. But the mind of a child can be changed. He made it so that his version of reality was more appealing. If I accepted it, then I wouldn't be alone. The goal...the goal inside that room…”

Grimmer trailed off, his jaw tensing briefly, lips pulling into a small, joyless smile.

“Behrman wanted to see if he could change what I perceive. If the goal of Kinderheim was to create ideal obedient soldiers, he wanted to know how to make that possible.”

Tenma took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Even if Grimmer was maintaining a calm about him, he understood...there was some amount of him that was disturbed. This person from his past, Behrman...was able to make him believe something false. Or that was what he thought; he couldn’t _know_ that yet, not completely, but even so, it was unnerving. Grimmer knew inherently what happened in Kinderheim, but again...looking at the past as something separate from himself wasn’t the same as knowing how it was achieved. Tenma clasped his hands in his lap, maintaining sharp eye contact with Grimmer.

“You fought against it. You became something they couldn’t control. And now you’re taking back everything they stole from you.”

Reassuring though his words might have been, Grimmer didn’t seem affected. His gaze lowered back to the book.

“I think that would be a happier thought if there were others that could take back those parts of themselves, too.”

For Grimmer, this was just as much - if not more - about the others that suffered. He could accept what happened to himself, but turning that pain on others seemed to carve deeper wounds. It was something Tenma could understand.

Tenma reached across, slowly closing the cover of the book. Grimmer made no effort to resist, even nodded a little, aware that perhaps he was getting a little overly affected. He squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath.

“Well...these are things I should probably write down...even if I’m not quite sure how to frame it within a story just yet. If I can get the information down as clear as possible...that would be someplace to start, I think. Though I think I’d like a change of scenery...I’ve gotten a bit tired of sitting at this same table. The library, perhaps. If you’d care to join me…?”

Tenma smiled, shaking his head. He was glad that Grimmer had put his mind onto something productive, but he certainly didn’t want to get in his way, either.

“No, that’s all right. I think I’ll try to contact Lunge. If he’s an instructor now, I don’t think he’ll be hard to get ahold of. And I’m sure he’s been waiting for me to reach out…”

Grimmer nodded, offering a smile that was a little gladder, a little more genuine than before.

“Then, best of luck to you. I’ll be back this evening, and you can let me know if you’ve made any sort of developments.”

He waved to Tenma as he left, journal under his arm and a pen tucked inside the rings. His short walk to the library was unhurried, lesiurely; the air in the afternoon was quite nice, and he waved to the odd passer-by, holding the library door open for a young woman and her small child. The boy stared up at him in the doorway before his mother ushered him along, though Grimmer found himself smiling regardless.

The library proper was quiet; a few tables were occupied - mostly by young folk with piles of textbooks, either deeply engaged in their work or absently half-flipping pages, or very nearly asleep. Grimmer bypassed them all, heading toward a row of computers. They were older models, but serviceable. Grimmer pulled out a chair, lowering himself into the plastic seat and setting his journal on the table beside him.

It wasn't particularly kind of him to use Tenma's nature against him, but then this was probably something he wouldn't want Grimmer to be doing. In all fairness he hadn't lied...he _did_ mean to start properly writing down his thoughts, and the library was a perfectly suitable place to do so. But there was something else he could do here, something he could find.

Edward...presumably Edward Behrman…

If the man himself couldn’t be tracked, the boy he took under his care might be a suitable lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now Hartmann's in on it, as if things couldn't be more gross. I'm not sure how old Hartmann was supposed to be, but I think he was at least in his late 50s or even older, which would have put him in his mid to late 20s when Grimmer was in Kinderheim...so he was probably already working towards being the district official with the ministry. While I doubt he had anything to do with Grimmer he was probably in cahoots with the nasties already. The timeline around this part of Kinderheim is pretty vague for anyone who's not Bonaparta so I'm just kinda throwing darts lmao....I can fudge things a little 
> 
> Elements of this chapter were drawn from both the novel Nineteen Eighty Four and one of my fav Star Trek TNG eps “Chain of Command” (which is itself an homage to 1984). Stewart's "there! Are! FOUR! LIGHTS!" line is probably one of the most powerful deliveries in the show ;;


	8. Message from Lunge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually a pretty tame chapter. Thank goodness!

_We’ll try it one more time. How many do you see?_

Spontaneously, with really no warning, Grimmer would find himself hearing, or smelling, or seeing something that wasn’t there. A flicker of light, the stench of cold dampness and sweat, the faded whisper of Behrman’s voice in the back of his mind. Knowing what the words meant didn’t seem to stop his momentary lapses in reality. That was probably normal, though, now that the memory had grown clearer.

There was something, though; something that was still missing. That room...he couldn’t say why, but something still felt uncertain. There was something else that happened there, in that place. But the more he tried to think back, the harder it became. Thinking only brought forward those momentary lapses in reality, bouts of tension that he needed to keep under control.

It didn’t last long; usually a second, or a few seconds at the most. He was good at keeping it self-contained most of the time. At worst he grew tense for a few moments, or the muscles in his face twitched. Even so, he knew that Tenma was watching him with a certain kind of worry. Perhaps the brief lapses were not as self-contained as he thought, or perhaps Tenma was simply feeding his own worries with no real basis; either would sound like him.

Grimmer had no desire to add to his mounting concern. Tenma had already tortured himself quite terribly since he first went to pay a visit to doctor Gillen; it seemed no healthier a choice on his part than it was for Grimmer to keep his own trauma to himself. But that was a part of Tenma’s character...as an individual he carried the brunt of others’ hurt for himself. His great fear for Grimmer…

That was normal. It was normal to feel deeply moved by the suffering of someone close. Even so it felt just a bit strange for Grimmer. Unfamiliar. Tenma’s compassion for him had certainly always been present, but in the last two weeks it had seemed more intense than before. It was endearing, in a way, but he did have to worry for the doctor. Giving too much of his heart for Grimmer’s sake would only exhaust the man.

Something pricked his skin and Grimmer tensed, relaxing only once he realized that the prickle came from Tenma brushing his hand as he made to take his dishes to rinse. He passed a look over the taller man, certainly aware that something wasn’t quite right, though he didn’t say anything. Tenma seemed to be more willing lately to let him be with his uncertainties - and Grimmer was glad of it. He did appreciate Tenma’s worry, but there wasn’t much the man could really do to help. Quiet suited him fine.

“I never thought I’d be turning to Lunge like this. But now I can’t imagine how we could have succeeded, if not for his help.”

Tenma’s tone was amused - a distraction, one of his subtler tactics to bring Grimmer’s mind away from wounding thoughts. It was one he appreciated greatly. He offered a quirked brow and hummed, slowly easing his shoulders into relaxation.

“I suppose if he’d chased me across Germany I might have held the same initial reservations as yourself. But it’s just as I said before...I think it’s quite a lucky thing, to have such a friend.”

Tenma looked up with a smile, gaze flicking back down to the dishes. Grimmer dried and put away what Tenma finished with, moving at a leisurely pace; they still had a few hours before they needed to meet Lunge at the cafe, which would give them plenty of time to prepare. Grimmer had his journal at the ready, and Tenma had been sure to bring that letter Gillen had left him with. 

A meeting with Heinrich Lunge…

They had agreed to meet at a small, but popular cafe. Someplace in the public eye, with an open view. That old habit would still kick in...even as they approached the tall slender man sat at the table, Grimmer found himself noting absently where a shooter might hide. Windows with billowing curtains to hide behind, open rooftop gardens that overlooked the cafe, the balcony that sat across from the cafe proper. Lunge waved them over, and Grimmer waved back, as jovial as ever. They didn’t appear to be watched...that was a start. Both he and Tenma took a seat.

“It’s certainly been a while, Detective.”

Lunge eyed the both of them over, his gaze settling on Grimmer, if only because he had spoken. The man shook his head, raising a hand to signal for the young fellow waiting the tables.

“Not detective. Not any longer. -- Coffee. For the three of us, please. Thank you.”

Grimmer hummed audibly, shaking his head. “No, that’s right, isn’t it? Instructor...do you find you miss your time on the field?”

Lunge hesitated, calculating a response. He shook his head.

“I believe I’ve had my share of experiences to last me a while. I’m content to see the younger generation properly trained, and the steadier hours allow me to spend more time with my daughter and grandson.” 

Grimmer’s face softened, something wistful and even longing in his eyes.

“I can understand that. Since I started this venture, I’ve hardly had the time to visit with anyone at all. I certainly hope those boys don’t think I’ve abandoned them. I did promise to join them for a game again...but, the way things are, we can’t be too careful. Colonel Ranke may support us, but there are certainly other groups that would take a shining to what Kinderheim has to offer, and neither Tenma nor myself are needed alive if they were to find what we know!”

There was a brief silence, Lunge quirking a brow as he regarded the both of them with a relatively neutral expression. Even so, Grimmer could feel the faint air of judgement. The man leaned in a little nearer, eyes narrowed with...perhaps suspicion, perhaps concern.

“I am familiar enough with your ‘other’ groups of suspect. Of one, at the very least. Though I can’t say much as to who they might be. Only that you had best mind yourselves.”

That quieted both men, caught their attention completely. Lunge was tapping again, tapping those fingers sharply against the table surface.

“That man you're after...I’m not sure how much of Behrman’s past you’re aware of. The murders of his wives’ children…?”

“We know.”

He nodded slowly, shoulders remaining hunched. There was a near palatable tension about him.

“He was found guilty for that reprehensible crime. However, there was no record of when or where he was apprehended, nor the verdict that was reached. Herbert Behrman is a ghost, as much as the word may be afforded. Evidence that he was ever arrested can only be found if one is familiar with the works published under his pen name. We are forced to acknowledge the existence of this individual through his scientific journals; it is a known fact among behavioural psychologists that he was once a leading expert, and that once his works were rescinded, he too disappeared. His book is the only tangible evidence of his existence, and only those who are able to recognize his pseudonym would be aware of the correlation between Anthony Pogue and Herbert Behrman.”

Tenma looked to be just a little frazzled, but Grimmer understood where Lunge was going. He nodded, clasping his hands together.

“It's not particularly surprising that Behrman might have been erased. Most of Kinderheim was-”

“No. They _tried_ to erase him, but it was sloppy work. We discovered his existence, after all. And his book is in your hands.”

Ah, yes… _sloppy…_ that certainly removed the usual suspects. _Someone_ was after information concerning Kinderheim, and hoped perhaps to erase what meagre traces still remained of that place. Someone who - if Lunge was to be believed - was active, even now.

“And you believe they would pose a threat to us, then…?”

It was more a rhetorical question, and one that didn’t seem to impress Lunge.

“Until we know who they are, and what their end goal might be, assume as you always have; that your lives are meaningless and they care only for the valuable information that you carry with you. Do not let your guard down.”

His warning left a silence in its wake, and though neither man looked at each other, Grimmer could certainly feel the ever-sensitive awareness of Tenma focused on him. Lunge didn’t leave the moment quiet for long, however; the former detective sat forward, hands clasped as his gaze shifted between the two of them.

“I don’t believe you came here to discuss the hypotheticals of an unknown organization. There was something you wanted to ask me about. You brought it, I presume?”

Tenma shifted, reaching into his jacket pocket as the young man brought the trio their coffee. He pulled the envelope out and held it toward Lunge, who raised a hand in refusal. That same hand then began with familiar jerky movements, that “typing” of his.

“A letter from the anonymous ‘H.B.’ to former District Official Hartmann of the Ministry of Health and Welfare. He thanks Hartmann for his work with the East German orphans, naming a boy ‘Edward’ - presumably a child taken under Behrman’s care. He goes on to lament that he did not have the chance to meet Wolf’s ’project’, an inquiry into the suggested removal of Director Reinhart Biermann, and a promise to return to work shortly. I believe that was all.”

Tenma and Grimmer shared a glance. Admittedly Grimmer had less experience witnessing the curious feats of Lunge’s near-perfect memory, so to see it in action was particularly intriguing. Tenma nodded, sheepishly putting the letter back inside his jacket.

“I was wondering what you could tell me about it. The project he mentions...do you know anything more?”

Lunge nodded, taking his coffee to his lips, though his eyes were hawkishly focused on the doctor. He didn’t so much as flinch under that gaze. 

“An acquaintance in Prague was able to identify the image of Herbert Behrman. This individual confirmed that, for a time, he occupied the Red Rose Mansion. What objective he might have had is unknown; our acquaintance was not clear on any further details. This information has been passed to Agent Jan Suk as well; he and his team will offer what support they can.”

“And, would this acquaintance have a name…?”

Lunge’s eyes flicked to Grimmer, hints of a smile glinting there.

“You named him, once before already. Colonel Karel Ranke.”

Once more, Grimmer and Tenma shared a brief glance. Ranke...that was a bit surprising; he had certainly warmed up to their purpose once he understood the nature of Johan and Kinderheim, but Grimmer hesitated to call him an “ally” in any sense. Though he supposed...in exposing Kinderheim, perhaps Ranke hoped they might bring justice to his nephew.

Grimmer sat forward, taking a sip of his coffee, grimacing, then adding a scoop of sugar and stirring it a bit.

“From Tenma’s experiences in Prague, I understand that Jaromir Lipsky, the son of Bonaparta, participated in the readings of the Red Rose Mansion. Has he been addressed?”

“To my knowledge, Suk hoped to track him down.”

There was a nod of satisfaction from both men. Grimmer took another sip of his coffee, now more satisfied with the taste.

“It's difficult to say what happened to Behrman between the time this letter was written and the incident at the orphanage. It seems to have been written at a time when Director Biermann’s leadership within Kinderheim was called into question, and Johan had recently been admitted to the orphanage; it would be several years until the fire that burned that place to the ground. If we hope to find any more on the whereabouts of Herbert Behrman, I would imagine that’s to be found in the Czech Republic. If not where he is now, then perhaps where he went before his disappearance.”

Lunge glanced between them, setting his coffee down. He was quiet for a moment, though the sharp analysis of those eyes scoured them both.

“And yet you appear to be in no hurry to make that trip.”

Indeed, he was correct; but layered in that statement was a question. _Why_ they sought not to venture to Prague. Behrman was a major lead, someone who could help piece Grimmer back together. But…

Even without Tenma’s insistence, Grimmer had a particular feeling...if he were to go to that place, if he _were_ to find that person from his past…

_Where is Steiner now?_

Grimmer’s arm tensed briefly, and he brought his drink to his lips again, closing his eyes. He could feel someone watching, though he couldn’t tell where those eyes were - Tenma or Lunge or...both. Still, the silence dragged, at least until the good doctor picked up his cue.

“Without a real starting point, it didn’t seem like a wise choice. Not when we’ve been making good progress with what we have on hand. Doctor Gillen has been more than helpful.”

Lunge took a moment, nodding affirmatively. Though his expression remained neutral, he didn’t push the topic; if he suspected anything more was at play, he didn’t voice it.

"And with the elevated risk to the both of you, that may well be for the better."

There was silence again, each party seemingly waiting for the other to speak. Lunge was not a man for small talk, not if it could be helped; and both Tenma and Grimmer had said their piece. There was more, of course - _what_ they had discovered, pieces of Grimmer's past - but that was something Grimmer wasn't yet prepared to reveal. Lunge wanted to hear it, that was clear, but for the moment...he was not to know. The man, though, seemed to understand. He looked from one to the other, finishing his rink.

“In that case, I suppose that concludes our business. There have been no developments on my end, with what little time I can devote. Only what I’ve told you now.”

Tenma shook his head, eyes bright and earnest.

“You’ve given us plenty to work with. At no point were you expected to help...what you’ve done for us, even before...we never expected any help to begin with. That you’ve done this much is incredible.”

Perhaps it was imagined, but Grimmer was almost certain he saw the faintest upward quirk of Lunge’s lips...a smile, or something like it, for just a brief moment. The man checked his watch, squaring his shoulders just a little.

“I suppose that’s true enough. Unfortunately however I have limited time to spare; if we’re finished, I would like to be on my way. I will notify Detective Suk of your findings and where you can be reached. Should his team encounter anything, that information will be relayed to you. And should my assistance be required in the future, you know where to find me. Best of luck, to the both of you.”

A wish of luck from someone like Lunge was almost humorous...though, more likely it was out of a sense of obligation; he viewed their endeavour as one that could, and _would_ be completed; there was no ‘luck’ about it. Grimmer offered a nod and a smile, a gesture that came a little more easily now.

“I imagine we’ll be in touch. If not now, then later; I believe we owe you a drink, at the very least.”

* * *

Returning to the hotel was quiet, peaceful; offered time for the men to digest their thoughts. Certainly much had been said, and more was to be addressed; they had more, now - more, and less, at once. Behrman had been in Prague...and, most likely, remained there until the burning of Kinderheim. But what happened to him afterward, and where he had gone...that wasn’t known. Suk could very well find something in Prague, but there was more incentive, now, for them to make that trip themselves.

Finding Behrman…

Between what Grimmer had found on his own, in the library, and the knowledge from Lunge that he had been living in the Czech Republic....that was dangerous. It meant a solid direction, something that he hadn't had before, and the only logical reason that Tenma could keep them from seeking him out. But it was more than that...Tenma knew it, and he knew it too; trying to locate Behrman - someone who, now, they could be _entirely_ certain was on the radar of some certain nefarious entity, would be dangerous. Both for them, and for the precarious semblance of peace that held Grimmer's mind together. What would happen, if he were to see that man? To see his face...

Just thinking about him brought unsettled thoughts to his mind. Tenma's refusal to show him the letter had been to protect him from his own urges, but now, with access to more information...that was going to be harder.

Tenma wanted to speak....Grimmer was sure that he could feel it. That they _both_ did, but they stayed silent during that walk. They had agreed only a short time ago to leave searching Behrman alone...at least, on the surface; this information changed that, but neither could quite speak to bring it up, not just yet. And that atmosphere, as they approached the hotel...it had a certain gloom about it. Uncertainty. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Tenma flicked the light on as Grimmer stepped inside, the flash coming too suddenly for his tired and busy mind. He...

_I want you to tell me how many you see._

He blinked a few times, felt the pulse of his heartbeat - too heavy and fast, right then - and reached out to clap a hand against the wall so he didn’t lose his footing as he half-tripped into the room. He breathed slowly, focusing on his hand, on the wall, on the feelings around him that helped to ground him. The moment passed quickly enough, but with Tenma inches behind him, watching, able to see everything - the stumble, the look in his eyes, the flinch - there certainly wasn’t any hiding it now.

The light flicked off again - a gesture that Tenma probably thought would help, but it didn’t really make a difference; the moment had passed already. The door closed behind them, leaving only their silhouettes in almost total blackness. In the dark, Grimmer felt a hand place itself over his, peeling it slowly away from the wall. He couldn’t see the doctor’s expression, but he could feel those dark eyes on him.

“It’s okay. You don't have to try to hide it from me. I already...I already knew.” 

Well, that didn’t come as a surprise. Grimmer stayed quiet, though he didn’t pull his hand away from Tenma’s. The two just stood in the doorway, Tenma offering his presence as a quiet comfort.

“Panic attacks are a normal response to being re-exposed to trauma. I’d be more worried if you _weren’t_ reacting that way. And I know that you’ve been trying to keep it to yourself, I can understand that. But you just…”

Tenma squeezed his hand, stepping a little closer. This close Grimmer could definitely make out the gentleness in those eyes. They weren’t worried...not the way he expected they might be. They were fierce, burning; a different side of Tenma that was rarer to see.

“You don’t have to fight it yourself. What I said to you...when I said that you weren’t alone, that I was with you...I mean that. You’re still going to see things, and hear things. And I know that you don’t _need_ anyone to protect you from that, you have a good handle over it. But I’m still here, and I _will_ protect you.”

He reached a hand up, gently brushing Grimmer’s cheek, his other hand finally releasing his own so that only their fingertips brushed ever so slightly. Grimmer barely noticed, his attention on the feeling of that warm hand to his face. He felt captured by that hand, unable to look away from Tenma’s eyes. That look...that fierce look…

Grimmer had no doubts toward Tenma’s declaration. 

But…

Grimmer let his own hand come to rest over Tenma’s, fingers curling just a little.

“They seem to be getting more vivid. It's loud. It's not long, but it feels real. I can barely pull myself away.”

Tenma stayed silent for a moment, then closed the remaining distance between them. He gently eased Grimmer’s head to tilt down toward him, so that their foreheads touched now. It was a gentle sensation - warm and comforting and close. He could feel Tenma’s hair in his face, but that seemed to bring its own form of comfort.

“Just remember what this touch feels like. You’ll know that it’s me. I’ll bring you back.”

What it felt like…

Warm...and something gentle, but unshakeable. A kind of strength that didn’t come from any sort of physical presence, but was communicated somehow through such a small gesture. It was the closeness, pushing uncertainties into dark crevices and out of sight. The feeling of encouragement, something kind and loving. That was the feeling of Tenma.

Grimmer offered a light squeeze to Tenma’s hand, a gesture of acceptance, of understanding before he let go, stepping back again. He allowed his hand to shift, moving to thread locks of long, dark hair as he gave a more confident - genuine - smile.

“I know you will.”

* * *

Grimmer didn’t go back to the library in the next several days. At least, not under the same pretenses as before. Something about Tenma’s earnest desire to protect him had shut down his interest in tracking further information on Behrman on his own. Those eyes had been so intense then, even in the dark. So to lie to Tenma…

That didn’t quite feel like a good thing.

Instead, he focused on what he’d said he would; writing down what he was able to remember, putting it into something that could be understood better than the “feelings” and the “images” he perceived. Putting it into words...that was harder. But it also really did help...seeing it written down made his progress that much clearer. 

It wasn’t just “one” memory...it was a complete experience restored, something that he would never have recalled before. The identity of someone from that place, someone that had tortured him and the other boys in their group. That person had a face. A name. Even a voice. That was a starting point, and it was more than Grimmer had been hopeful to gain back so soon.

They had the option to go to Prague...they knew, now, that there was information to be gleaned there. But for right now, it didn't feel like the right thing. Tenma...though he made it quite plain that he would respect Grimmer's decisions, it seemed a bit unkind to entirely disregard the doctor's concerns. He had worried that exposing Grimmer to more than he was ready for would be detrimental...so, instead of venturing to Prague, he made a deal; they would only go if there _was_ something conclusive - if Suk was in contact, or Lunge, then they would absolutely know.

Until then, they continued as they had been all that time. He was glad to spend the rest of his time with Tenma. It was easier now to be honest - while it was true that his brief bouts of anxiety and stress were longer drawn out, Tenma was there to support him and that was enough.

It wasn’t long, though - less than a full week, since that afternoon - when the duo was startled with a call. Tenma was the first to the phone, but Grimmer didn’t need to hear to know what it was about; the sudden stiffness of his shoulders, the straight line of his face, his curt manner of speech…

“Suk, I presume…?”

Tenma nodded slowly, resetting the phone back on its holder. There was some amount of apprehension in his eyes. He didn’t speak, just nodded. Grimmer relaxed, humming as he looked toward the window with a smile.

“I guess we’re paying a visit to Prague.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short fairly chill chapter that really only exists as an interlude and some infodump lol...next one will be more interesting I promise.
> 
> I'll have to go back and edit some stuff but I'm retconning a little of what Gillen said regarding Behrman...he disappeared bro....suspicious shit happening


	9. An Even Deeper Dread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for slight depiction of child abuse and violence.

Even riddled with tension, there was something rather relaxing about taking the train. In the past, Tenma could never have relaxed like this, completely in the open, for anyone to see. But now he could just sit and watch the passing trees, rows of red roofs and gorgeous archetecture pass by as the train took its leisurely route from station to station.

Grimmer leaned toward the window, peering out with a bright smile, the light turning it even warmer under its glow.

“We’re coming up on the Elbe. I think I’d like to go fishing there again, but this time I wonder if you would care to join me...have you ever fished, Doctor?”

Tenma smiled his own, tired smile and shook his head.

“Neither of my parents had much of a taste for it. One of my brothers would go fishing with friends when he was younger, but I never asked if I could go with him.”

He’d never been especially close with them, even in childhood. Definitely not enough to join one on a fishing trip.

Grimmer hummed, leaning back again, looking incredibly relaxed. Even so, Tenma recognized the sharp glint in his eye, a look that had gone somewhere far away, taking Grimmer far across horizons he couldn’t reach.

“I wonder if _he_ ever knew the joys of fishing. I don’t think that’s possible, if he turned out like he did. It’s too bad. To go fishing with your child...that seems like such a wonderful experience.”

His tone was calm, but Grimmer wasn’t as composed as he wanted to be seen; he distracted himself with talk, but his mind was latched onto Behrman, and onto the possibilities that awaited them now.

The conversation with Lunge had been...informative, to say the least. Even so, Tenma couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than dread, as they neared the Czech border.

Knowing that someone had an eye on former Kinderheim instructors - alive or otherwise - wasn’t new on its own; they had theorized something like that might be the case. But in Tenma’s mind, the danger had been limited only to the two of them; from what Lunge had to say, though, there was a good chance that Gillen could be a person of interest to them, too. He seemed to keep his interest in Behrman’s book quiet, but that didn’t mean he was safe.

At the very least Tenma felt a little more validated in the care that he and Grimmer had taken to remain on the down-low. The only people who knew what they were doing and where they were could be counted on one hand; Suk, Gillen and Lunge just happened to be active participants. As long as Nina and Reichwein weren’t put in any danger, Tenma supposed he could relax; the other three were aware of the risks involved, after all.

That wasn’t all that worried him, though. 

Grimmer’s bouts of anxiety were getting worse. He was able to remember things now, which exposed him to that newly unearthed trauma even when it had been so long ago. In his mind, it was fresh - almost like new experiences. Tenma didn’t particularly like the enthusiasm Grimmer had for investigating Behrman; he certainly had no right to criticize his desire to delve deeper into his past, but moving too fast could be more harm than good.

It almost would have been better if he _hadn’t_ called on Lunge.

Well...that wasn’t true. They had learned something important about that would-be group. But now, there really was no reason _not_ to visit the Czech Republic. Even if Behrman himself was a dead end, there was a good chance that Lipsky might have more to say.

Grimmer had at least been willing to _listen_ to his concerns, seemed to understand where he was coming from, but the agreement they’d come to didn’t work very well in Tenma’s favour. He’d hoped there might be a little more time - for Grimmer’s mind to relax, for his confused mental state to settle down - but there wasn’t. Suk was on the phone within the week, and now...they were already on their way to meet him.

In all likelihood, they weren’t going to find Behrman himself. As much as Suk had grown as a cop, he wasn’t quite shrewd enough for that. But he would have something to point them in a direction, and that would be enough to drive Grimmer to continue. 

Tenma knew he was out of line; he had absolutely no sway on how Grimmer went about his journey of self-discovery. He said it enough, that he was just “along for the ride”. But it felt just a little like the person he knew was starting to seep away; not _disappearing_ , not really, but receding - making room for the vast void of empty pieces that needed filling. Grimmer was still _there,_ he just had new facets to himself that had yet to settle down and find their place. It left him unsure and eager - a dangerous combination. He’d even said it himself - that when those moments of fragmented reality came, he had a hard time coming back to himself. Those new aspects of Grimmer were too raw still to be controlled.

But he’d said...he said that Tenma was his anchor. That if anyone could pull him back…

Even if Tenma wasn’t happy about it, that was what he would do.

Border Police came by and, despite Tenma’s initial uncertainty, there had been no questions, no comments, nothing to state they might suspect him of any wrongdoing. Regular travel really had become...normal, though he did find he missed that venture into the mountains. If he and Grimmer were going to go fishing...then that was something they could fit in, too. Another picnic, overlooking that beautiful view...but they’d have company, this time. A proper celebration.

Grimmer stretched, jovial and animated, as they walked out onto the landing. He let out a pleasant sigh, turning a smile on Tenma, who couldn’t much help but smile in answer.

“It certainly takes me back. Quite a bit happened, then.”

Tenma nodded, adjusting the bag slung over his shoulder. He led the two of them along, aware of the way Grimmer was looking around him; despite how casual he seemed, the man was alert and attentive - his looking around wasn’t in simple curious wonderment, his eyes were scanning for threats, scoping out their environment. A crowded train station was an easy place to hide.

“Suk said to meet him in an hour at the...at ‘La Dolce Vita’, he said you’d met there once before…?”

“That’s right. A charming and popular cafe.”

Tenma nodded, though he continued taking the lead even after they’d left the station. He could feel Grimmer watching him, but said nothing as he walked them along the vaguely familiar streets. A light breeze tangled at his hair and he found himself smiling, keeping at a leisurely pace in their walk. Grimmer shifted beside him, seemingly trying to draw them in another direction, but Tenma paid little mind.

“The cafe is….”

“Not yet. We’re going somewhere else first.”

Grimmer seemed a bit taken by his abruptness, but made no effort to argue; he was probably curious as to just where they were going, but didn’t seem bothered by Tenma’s insistence. The doctor turned a warmer smile toward him, just something small and reassuring; it wouldn’t take long, he’d probably understand soon enough. The path became more and more familiar - certain landmarks Tenma recognized.

Grimmer stopped when they came to a particular building, a familiar one.

The look on his face was a little surprised - as though, somehow, he hadn’t expected it to be there. He glanced toward Tenma, waiting for...something; an explanation, perhaps a reason to make his way up to the door. None of that was necessary, though, because even if Tenma had said anything, it would have been drowned out.

_”Mister Grimmer! Mister Grimmer’s back! He came back! Oh my gosh, he came back!”_

The words were hurried, growing louder, and then seven boys piled out through the front door at a near breakneck pace, stopping only when they were within a few feet of the two adults, panting and laughing and trying to catch their breath.

And Grimmer...Grimmer was smiling. 

He crouched down to their height, Milos half-stumbling forward as one of the other boys pushed him, falling into Grimmer and laughing. Grimmer put a hand on each of his shoulders, though the boy wasn’t satisfied with just that; he put his littler arms around Grimmer, something almost achingly familiar, though the context this time was much more pleasant. Like that, with his face hidden, he spoke - albeit muffled - into Grimmer’s shirt.

“You didn’t say goodbye.”

Those four words settled heavily. Grimmer’s smile faded, his expression returning to something neutral, a little uncertain. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he raised a hand from the boy’s shoulders to place it at the back of his head, properly embracing the child. The other boys hung back, but there was a slight eagerness in them, a want to go see Grimmer too. Milos shifted a little, looking up at Grimmer with a watery smile.

“It’s okay though, I knew you were coming back. Some of them didn’t think so, but I did! And you’re here now, so I was right.”

There was a joyfulness in that statement, something almost a little bit proud. But Grimmer...as much as he wore a smile in that moment, it was the shielding kind, a face that he wore to deflect what he really felt. Tenma could guess; when he’d left those boys, he hadn’t said a word...and after Ruehenheim, he had very nearly been killed. To have said nothing to them in all that time…

Guilt. Even if Milos was happy now, had believed in him all that while, he felt guilty. Though in Grimmer’s eyes...perhaps he hadn’t expected for those boys to care as much as they did, even now. It had been a strange concept then, and remained something a bit foreign. 

The boy stood back again, smiling up at Grimmer as he tugged at his shirt a little. 

“We missed you a bunch, so I’m glad you came!”

Grimmer chuckled, drawing a breath as though to answer. He stopped, though, seemingly caught in some sort of thought, pulled away from his immediate surroundings. He blinked, a different energy coming about just then. Grimmer’s eyes narrowed, his lips turning down into a very slight frown as he looked over the boy. Milos stared back with wide and curious eyes - curious, much gentler and happier than they had been the first time Grimmer had hugged him.

“S…” he started shyly, fidgeting a little, turning his face away and looking to the other boys for guidance, though he got none. “Something wrong? Are you...um…”

He didn’t seem to know what he really wanted to ask. Grimmer didn’t have an answer. He stood slowly, his expression pensive. There was something almost ominous in the air, just a little heavy, that the boys could sense.

“Milos, you…”

Grimmer’s voice was soft, trailing off before he finished his thought. The boys seemed just a little unsure. Grimmer tapped his chin thoughtfully, silent for just a few moments. Then his expression changed, almost comical in its abruptness; a warm smile lit his features, sparkling in his eyes as he gave an affirmative nod to whatever thought he had been musing in that moment. He addressed Milos, crouching once again.

“You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you?”

The boy puffed out his chest a little, all but aglow that Grimmer noticed.

“I did! I can almost touch the top cupboard when I go like this-” He threw his arm up, reaching as high as he could, wiggling his fingers a little. Someone snorted from behind him, and Milos lowered his arm again, cheeks turning a light pink.

“You’re still the _baby_ though.”

“H-hey, that….”

“Yeah! You were crying the other day cause you thought you lost that picture you drew last week and then you cried again when you found it!”

Milos pouted, his hands gripping tighter together and the red in his face darkening. It was clear the boys didn’t mean any harm, they were joking around, but he probably thought it was a little embarrassing to have that all told in front of Grimmer. 

At least he seemed to notice it.

Grimmer raised his hands placatingly, shaking his head. He beckoned for the other boys to come closer, each of them eagerly circling around him in a swarm. Grimmer looked from one boy to the next, Tenma just a little impressed with how totally he could captivate their attention. When he spoke, it was with that same gentle fondness.

“Each of you has gotten taller since I saw you last. But...if you really want to grow where it counts…”

Grimmer quirked a brow, smirking at the circle of boys.

“Big kids don’t call their friends babies.”

They stiffened, looking from one to the other. The larger of the boys - a messy brunette - glanced aside nervously, swallowing, then turned toward Milos.

“S...sorry, that wasn’t very…”

He swallowed, then tried again, a little more determined.

“That wasn’t very grown up of me to say. I’ll do better.”

Milos smiled, seemingly unaffected by the light ribbing. He shook his head, stepping back a bit and looking over his shoulder, a little hopeful.

“We were going to get together with some of our friends, so if you wanted to come play with us for a little while…”

The shine in Grimmer’s eyes was bright, but a little sad.

“I’ve got someone to meet, and a ways to go if I want to see him on time. That detective from before...he’s helping me on an important case. But if you boys want...I’d be happy to come play with you another time. I’ll make it a promise, so I have no choice but to come back.”

The brown-haired boy pulled a face, looking up at Grimmer and scrunching his nose, leaning in just a little. After a few moments he unscrewed his face and nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, turning back toward the other boys.

“He’s telling the truth! It’s a promise. We’ll get to play with him again, so it’s okay if we let him go.”

Tenma couldn’t help but chuckle, startling a few of them. He waved sheepishly, and they waved back; certainly not quite with the same excitement as they treated Grimmer to, but they weren’t cold to him, either. There was just something a little endearing about those boys and the assertion that, if they so decided, they had the power to keep Grimmer to themselves.

It was probably true, even now. 

Milos looked up at Grimmer, still wringing his hands a little.

“What’s the case?”

It was inevitable that boys ranging from seven to thirteen years old would hone in on a mention of some sort of secret case Grimmer was investigating. But how to address something like that…

Grimmer’s face remained mellow, a neutral expression as he lowered himself to properly sit in the grass, knees up, arms relaxed at his sides.

“He’s helping me to learn about myself. Things I never knew.”

The boys quieted, looking at him with a certain amount of wonder. Grimmer brought his arms up to rest across his knees, his thumbs brushing one another idly. The boys took it upon themselves to sit down, too.

“Even me...Wolfgang Grimmer...I’m just like you. I was an orphan, too. I don’t remember my parents at all. What they looked like, or if they loved me. I grew up in a scary place, with mean people. But...I was able to get better. I got better, and I met important people. Like Doctor Tenma, and all of you.”

There was a little shifting and whispering among the boys. Grimmer gave them an encouraging smile.

“There are a lot of things I don’t remember about my childhood, but I found something that might be able to help. So the detective is helping me...and I’m going to put the pieces back together.”

It was quiet again, the boys slowly processing what was said. Grimmer had opted to be quite honest with them, but in a moderated way; even he seemed to know better than to expose children to anything too terribly traumatic. But, they could probably guess; Milos, certainly, had a look about him. 

He was the first of the boys to stand, walking over to plop down beside Grimmer, leaning his weight against the taller man.

“You told me something big before. That day. Something really important. I think you should get told it too.”

He looked up at Grimmer, up toward those questioning blue eyes. His own youthful ones were unusually serious, sharp.

“Somebody wants you, Mr. Grimmer. I know I do. You’re really nice, and make everyone happy, and I think that’s really good. So...no matter what, I love you! I love you a whole lot!”

Grimmer blinked, then blinked again. He opened his mouth, closed it, then looked at the other boys, who were nodding, reciting their own _I like you too!_ s one by one, over each other.

Grimmer slowly put an arm around Milos, offering a little half-hug, his eyes just a little bit glassy.

“I think I needed to hear someone say that. I think...hearing that from you...all of you...that feels special. And I’m glad...I’m glad…”

His hand shook just a little, the smile on his face turning almost a little pained. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Come on over, all of you...if I have to go now, I think this is a good way to say goodbye to someone important.”

There was a brief moment of uncertainty, but the boys were only too happy to oblige, piling in for a hug. The moment was warm, but even Tenma observing from a short distance could see that there was something sad in those boys. Not because Grimmer was leaving, but because they knew...they could sense there was more to what was hurting, and this was all they could do to help. But they gave their everything with that sweet embrace.

The goodbye itself was cheerful as Grimmer stood, waving, and the boys waved excitedly and started dragging each other to go meet with their friends. It left Tenma and Grimmer to their lonesome, the scene quiet at last. Grimmer took a few moments just to absorb the moment, but finally took toward Tenma once more, and led them on to their meeting with Suk.

They didn’t speak much, at least not at first. The walk was quiet, both men keeping their thoughts relatively to themselves. Grimmer, though, broke that silence eventually, drawing to a halt some short ways away from the cafe.

“Thank you.”

Tenma glanced up toward him, smiling and shaking his head.

“I just thought it might be nice to see them again.”

Grimmer nodded, looking skyward. He took a slow, deep breath, then let it out just as slowly.

“I never thought about what it would feel like, to see them again. I never even thought that they would miss me so much. But I’m really that important to them...and they’re…”

“You love them, too.”

Grimmer turned a warm, bright smile on Tenma and nodded. He brought a hand up to his chest.

“I can still feel it. When Milos said that to me...it felt so warm that it hurt. But it wasn’t a bad sort of pain. I was surprised, and happy, to hear someone say that to me.”

Tenma smiled, glancing away.

“They want to support you. And so do Lunge and Suk, and Rudi, and myself. There are a lot of people...a _lot_ of people who care about you. We’re all here for you.”

Grimmer hummed, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.

“Then I probably shouldn’t be keeping Suk…”

* * *

The cafe itself was large, busy, and open; it was a wonderful spot, with beautiful red umbrellas to shade the seating, and a wonderful view of Prague. It was almost hard for Tenma to spot the one table near to the middle where a lone blonde in a stiff grey suit sat, watching them. Grimmer spotted him easily enough, taking the lead to the table. Suk stood to greet them, meeting them halfway.

“Grimmer. Tenma. It’s been a while.”

Suk extended a hand to the both of them, Grimmer first and then Tenma. It was almost a little bit strange; he was used to being the point of contact, the person that was more on the radar of his peers, but that wasn’t the case here; as much as Grimmer might not grasp it, he had a profound impact on a number of people and it showed. Suk gestured for them to take a seat, ordering a coffee for himself. Tenma was content with just water, though Grimmer opted for a coffee of his own. It was a bit of a mirror to their meeting with Lunge, almost uncannily familiar. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. It’s been busy for me almost non-stop. Ever since I took a promotion…I’m glad, of course, but it does mean I have a lot more to manage…”

Tenma had to smile. He was glad to see that Suk’s career was progressing, and that he seemed to have won back the respect of his peers, after the mess with Grimmer. The fact that the secret police had managed to infiltrate the force hadn’t really helped his case back then.

“Well, in fairness, I haven’t really made much of an effort, either. Tenma and myself…we’ve been putting our time toward learning what we can. It’s had some success, that’s for sure.”

Suk nodded, tucking stray hairs behind his ear. He took up his coffee, looking them over carefully – analysing them perhaps, though he made no indication as to what he thought. 

“And that’s where Behrman comes in.” 

Tenma nodded, reaching for his water. 

“We’ve been able to confirm he was working with both Pedrov, the former director of the orphanage, and the former District Official within the Ministry of Health and Welfare, Hartmann. We’re also aware that he spent time on a project operating out of the Red Rose Mansion.”

“Yes, Lunge briefed me over the phone. I’m familiar.”

Suk’s mutter came with just a little annoyance; he didn’t really have anything to prove here, but all the same, he was probably used to having everything talked down to him and then reiterated; from Verdemann’s description, the junior detective had been a bit frustrated with higher authority figures, fighting to be heard by any of his colleagues – and that had manifested in a bit of a difficult attitude toward really anyone, well-meaning though they might be. There were hints of it here, even with Grimmer. 

The blonde hesitated, clearing his throat and reaching inside his jacket. Grimmer’s gaze flicked away – toward a few other tables behind them, then to open windows overlooking the café. The last time he’d visited Prague, the last time he shared information with Suk, it had ended much uglier; he probably wanted to avoid a situation like that if it could be helped. Suk placed a piece of paper down on the table – folded twice, neatly into a square.

“I tracked down Jaromir Lipsky for a conversation. He didn’t recognize the name, but he talked about his father inviting several important officials to their home before and during the readings at the Red Rose Mansion. He wasn’t allowed to stay to listen, but he memorized their faces. If you would…”

Suk gestured toward the sheet of paper. Tenma unfolded it, revealing three drawings - crudely sketched faces. He recognized the first, though it was odd to see him with a younger face - Behrman, sallow looking with sunken eyes and a serene expression. The name had been written beneath it in blue ink - neatly scrawled, definitely Suk’s writing.

The second was unfamiliar. He was older, with a round face and small eyes. Something was familiar, though; something that Tenma couldn’t quite place. At least, not until he saw the name. Both he and Grimmer exchanged glances, then looked up at Suk.

“V...Ver…”

“It’s just who you think.”

Verdemann. The father of Tenma's own defense lawyer had been a spy - a fact that Fritz Verdemann had loathed to admit. It made sense that he would be involved, he had been a part of the readings at the time...even so, it took them a little bit by surprise. 

Tenma’s eyes moved to the third and final sketch. The last face was very squared, with a thick jaw and a rectangular head. The features were very blunt – a short nose, shallow eyes, a small mouth, short and conservative hair. The name underneath…

“Walter Delbrück.” 

Suk nodded, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning forward a little.

“I don’t know what his significance is. Ranke was barely willing to talk to me at all, but looking at this picture he was able to give me a name. He was in the military and reached the rank of Colonel, but left under suspicious circumstances. Ranke doesn’t seem to think this person was involved in the Red Rose Mansion readings; he wasn’t supposed to even be in the country at the time. Whatever he was doing with Bonaparta and Behrman was probably being covered up, even kept from Ranke.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence, Grimmer looking between the three faces. His shoulders were a little tensed, but he seemed to be doing all right otherwise. Tenma looked back up to Suk.

“This wasn’t all you found, though.”

The blonde shook his head, an even deeper dread settling over them.

“I thought it might be possible to make a connection between those names and Reinhart Biermann. With help from your own findings I was able to trace his steps - back to smuggling himself into Prague and before that. To keep it short, we were able to find correspondence spanning about three years that originated presumably from Behrman. It stopped coming abruptly five years ago, but that still means…”

“That’s still recent enough. It’s more than we might have expected.”

Tenma looked back down to the pictures, at each of those faces. They really were...plain, ordinary. Just ordinary people, but what they had done…

“And the content of the letters…?”

Tenma said it calmly, though he couldn't deny a certain anxiousness to know. Suk shook his head, closing his eyes.

“Not yet. We’ve secured them, and I took a brief look, but I didn’t really read any of it. But this project is my priority, I promise. I called you here because I thought you’d want to read them. I can’t imagine it’ll be long before I can release the letters to you. So…”

He trailed off, eyes focusing in on Grimmer, expression drawing down into something concerned. Tenma followed his gaze, only now noticing just how uncomfortable he looked.

Grimmer had been quiet for some time, and now it was clear why. He had a hand gripped over his mouth, drawing slow breaths through his nose, eyes closed. Body tense. Something was getting to him and he was struggling to contain it.

Tenma glanced back to Suk, who looked just a little lost, unsure of how to respond.

“I think that might be enough for now. If you don’t mind…”

“N...no, that’s...I understand. I’ll keep in touch. And-” Suk’s voice squeaked just a little, his own nerves showing through. “I’ll, um, cover the drinks. You can go…”

Tenma offered an encouraging smile, nodding. He put a hand on Grimmer’s shoulder, drawing his focus away from whatever had caught him in a moment of uncertainty. The man relaxed his shoulders, blinking a few times. He looked just a bit out of sorts - dazed, not quite all there.

“Of course. We’ll talk to you soon, then.”

* * *

Tenma booked them a room at the nearest hotel. He couldn’t help but keep an eye on his friend; whatever Grimmer saw had spooked him quite a bit, if it made him nauseous like that. Grimmer looked a little more stable now, but there was something distant about him - something he wanted to keep to himself, or that he was internalizing for his own sake. It wasn’t Tenma's place to ask, so he left it alone.

They took the elevator up, Tenma turning the key to their room in his hand a few times. There was a faint dread in the air around them - carried from their conversation with Suk, undoubtedly. Tenma kept his attention on Grimmer as he pushed the door open, giving away as little concern as possible. Grimmer took a moment, then smiled distantly as he eased inside, lowering his bag by the door. 

“I’m okay now. Those pictures just took me off guard, and I remembered something.”

He was honest, something that Tenma was glad of. There was no need or reason to hide the truth; Grimmer remembering something from his past was to be expected. Tenma nodded slowly, his gaze falling. He lowered his own bag, still hanging in the doorway. Something just didn’t feel _good_ right now, and he couldn’t place it. Maybe just the heaviness in the atmosphere, but something…

“Come inside. You can worry and fret all you like then.”

Tenma’s head snapped around, mouth opening to utter some sort of retort, but he couldn’t think of anything. He closed his mouth again, chuckling softly and shaking his head.

“I don’t mean to. But this whole situation…”

“No, I understand. I know why you worry so much.”

Grimmer walked further inside, taking a look at what Tenma had managed to procure them on such short notice. It wasn’t a spectacular room, and the lighting was shoddy, but they probably weren’t going to be in Prague for long; wherever Suk’s letters led them would take them elsewhere, undoubtedly. He said something from beyond the doorway, but it went unheard by Tenma as he gathered his bearings once more. Grimmer was right; he needed to relax.

There was a click as Tenma pulled the door shut.

Then there was a thud.

Grimmer had backed himself as far away from the door as he could, stumbled at some point and was on the ground, hands shaking. He was looking up toward Tenma, but there was no recognition; what he was seeing wasn’t what was in front of him. Another episode, then. But this...

This wasn’t like when he dreamed. While he slept he might toss restlessly, mutter to himself. It was closer to the brief moments of panic and fear he experienced as his awareness lapsed for a few seconds, but this time it was _visceral_ ; there was a frantic energy as Grimmer stared emptily ahead of him at some unseen terror. He’d lowered down against the wall, backed into the corner as he clutched his head, breaths coming quickly. He was trying to speak, but little more than sounds came through, hurried and confused. In his eyes was a look of pure, undulated _terror._

Tenma…had never seen him like that. Not like that. Not so completely lost.

He crouched low in front of Grimmer, moving slowly as he lowered himself down to a kneel. Still no recognition, no acknowledgement he was there, but that was expected.

An anchor...Grimmer's anchor...

“It’s all right.” He started, speaking softly, right next to Grimmer. “Breathe.”

Whatever had grasped the man in its clutches was absolute; it was as though he couldn’t hear or see Tenma at all. He reached forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. If not his voice, then perhaps his touch would get through to him. One hand on each shoulder - a familiar hand from someone he knew and trusted. Like this, he could feel how badly Grimmer was shaking. He put just a little pressure in that touch, urging Grimmer to recognize it, to recognize _him._

Grimmer’s response was quick.

His arm snapped up. He grabbed that hand, took Tenma by the wrist in a painful grip and _pulled._ Tenma was thrown forward, losing his balance. Everything shifted, his body falling sideways, something pressing hard into him from above. His head collided with the floor heavily and he grunted, blinking through the pain, trying to gather his bearings. Something was crushing his windpipe, and his arm still wouldn’t move. Something heavy above him. Blinking up through his lashes, he could see that the heavy shape was...

G…

Grimmer. 

Grimmer had him pinned, one hand still firm around his wrist, the other applying an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his larynx. And looking up…looking up into his _eyes…_

Tenma had made a mistake. He’d been careless. Grimmer wasn’t himself, he was fighting phantom memories. Grabbing onto him like that, so close…he’d painted himself as the threat. An immediate danger to Grimmer. The person above him now, choking him and crushing his wrist… _wasn’t_ Grimmer.

Tenma felt his breath hitch, but tried not to move. Right now, he had to be careful. He had to prove he _wasn’t_ a threat. If he did anything… _anything_ to provoke Steiner, there was a good chance he wouldn’t survive. He didn’t want to think about it, but the image of Grimmer, his hands soaked and bloody, and those men beaten within an inch of their lives...that could be him, now. He was dangerously close to becoming another of Steiner’s victims.

So for now he lay still. He lay still and breathed, slowly, through his nose. Despite the pressure from Steiner’s hand, his airway wasn’t blocked; it was a threat, not violent aggression. Not yet. As long as he could stay still and make himself harmless, he would probably be okay. He wasn't fighting, wasn't presenting himself as a danger, so Steiner had no reason to further his aggression.

But it was hard to stay still, to not struggle, when it felt like his wrist was being crushed.

What…was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t move or speak. Doing either might be enough to set off the violent personality he’d awakened. But the longer he lay there doing _nothing_ , the more he could feel it. Steiner had no intention of relenting. So how was he supposed to escape?

Tenma took slow, if shallow, breaths. He could feel himself tremble, even as he looked up toward Steiner’s face. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. All he had was limited body language and expression. He was lying on his back, wasn’t fighting; he engaged his assailant with his eyes, nothing more. The weight on his throat intensified; either another warning, a sign of superiority, or Steiner really was going to kill him. Tenma could feel himself trembling, fighting harder to breathe, but now it was nearly impossible. His lungs were starting to ache.

He had to move. He had to… _something._

Tenma jolted forward, trying to push himself upright. It earned him a moment to spare, a lungful of air, but Steiner forced him backward again. There was another heavy crack against the floor, Tenma letting out a shocked yelp as his skull collided with linoleum. He shut his eyes, head lolling to the side. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t fight Steiner. He was far outmatched like this, and now he was compromised.

* * *

That man was going to take him away. Just like always. He was gonna take him to the bad room.

The TV room was safe. Steiner always came to save the little boy in that show. Even if bad things happened, there was always Steiner. _He_ wanted a Steiner.

The noises outside were a lot. Sad and scary. But so long as he was in the TV room it was okay. He could make the crying from outside the hall disappear if he listened hard enough to Steiner in the TV box. That made it okay.

But the man always made him leave. He came to turn off the TV and then took him away. He was big and had a scary face and a mean voice and never listened.

He didn’t want to get hurt. But the man grabbed him and pulled him by the arm. He was small, not big enough to pull away. If he was bigger maybe he could fight back, but he was just like the boy on the TV. Except that there was no Steiner to protect him from the dark place. He wasn’t a good boy so he didn’t get to be rescued.

_I don’t want to go in there._

Screaming and crying didn’t help, it only made his throat scratch and his eyes itch. The big hand squeezed his wrist harder and pulled harder and he stumbled, and he fell. But that didn’t stop the man, he just pulled again so the boy stumbled along. It felt like his arm was going to come off it hurt so bad.

_I don’t like it in there. I don’t want to go in there. Don’t make me go._

“It’s all right. Breathe.”

It wasn’t all right. Nothing was all right. Every time he went in there something bad happened. But it didn’t matter, the man grabbed him by both his shoulders and shoved hard.

He didn’t want to go.

He _didn’t_ want to go.

To get saved he had to be good and do what he was told. To do what he was told...

Steiner…Steiner…

...

A scream.

Someone cried out. And in that moment everything came rushing back, because that voice…that was Tenma. _Tenma_ screamed. He sounded distressed. Something happened and Tenma was hurt.

Grimmer blinked, fighting back the fog that had entered his mind. It was thick, it was heavy, but the sharpness of that yelp cleared it away in a moment.

Something had happened...took him off guard. He remembered that. What he saw...it had been so vivid it almost seemed real. And Tenma...Tenma…

Breathing. Warm...something warm...underneath him, trying to move...

Looking down, Grimmer’s heart jolted abruptly in his chest. He stared in confounded horror, the grip of his hands loosening from Tenma’s throat, releasing him from his desperate choke. Tenma coughed violently, tears in his eyes as he struggled to just breathe. But with Grimmer on top of him, his weight bearing down on the doctor's smaller frame, it was still a struggle just to get air into his lungs.

Grimmer shifted aside, his eyes wide and his mind hazed.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone _horribly_ wrong. He’d been…choking Tenma.

Trying to kill him.

The desperate cry that broke through his haze was…because of him.

 _He_ was the one who hurt Tenma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole bit with the kids was not supposed to be that long but then it got all Feely...
> 
> Also the cafe they went to is an actual cafe in Prague...though whether or not it's the one they met at in canon? Idk man!
> 
> Just so you know I’ve totally had the Steiner scene written almost since day 1…I am mean
> 
> Poor, poor Grimmer and Tenma :(


	10. Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new warnings for this chapter <3

Grimmer didn’t remember how it had happened. How that awful scene had unfolded. The last thing he remembered, they were getting settled in their room. He was taking a look around...Tenma was standing in the doorway. He’d turned around and said something...and that...something about that exact moment had raised alarm. It was like before - reality melted into a fraction of a memory, and everything around him was gone. It was blank, after that. And now… _now…_ he was crouched over a barely conscious Tenma who…until only moments ago, he’d been choking near to death.

Tenma had rolled onto his side and was taking haggard, shaky breaths. Grimmer could do nothing but sit there and take in the details. The purple bruises that circled Tenma’s neck. The same bruising on his right arm. Swelling at his wrist. Grimmer had done that to him, and he somehow…didn’t remember it. None of it. But when he’d woken, when Tenma’s startled yelp pierced his mind, he…

He could _feel_ it. He could _feel_ his hands squeezed around his windpipe. Warm, tense, muscles shifting slightly as the doctor tried desperately to take in air. He did that. He did that and he’d _felt_ it.

Tenma was breathing now, even if it came in rattling and shaky and anxious. He was breathing and seemed to be stable, and that was enough for now. But it wouldn’t erase that feeling in his hands. The feeling of Tenma’s life.

“Tenma…”

Grimmer’s whisper was barely heard. His voice didn’t sound like it belonged. It was a half-wheeze, small and scared. He reached out, but wouldn’t touch; his hand just hovered, shaking a little, inches above Tenma’s shoulder. He wouldn’t dare touch him right now. Not while he could still feel that warmth in his palms.

Help. He needed to help him. Tenma’s emergency aid kit...had he put that somewhere? Was it still in his bag?

He stood slowly, tripping over himself a little as he made an awkward sideways step that nearly toppled him into the wall. Grimmer put an arm out to catch himself, looking toward Tenma. He seemed to be all right; his breathing had slowed, and he looked like he was in pain, but he didn’t seem to be in distress, either. Grimmer hastened towards the bags still in the entrance, pulling the medical kit from Tenma’s bag and jogging back into the living room, landing a little roughly on his knees as he dropped once more beside Tenma.

The doctor had sat up against the wall, and was looking at his hand. The swelling had gotten worse, more obvious, and he winced when he tried to bend at the wrist, letting out a sharp exhale. He looked up when he saw Grimmer again, opening his mouth to speak, though all that came out was a cough. Grimmer looked over him cautiously, though kept a small distance between them. He set down Tenma’s medical kit between them.

“I brought supplies.” He kept his voice quiet and even as he spoke, not quite a whisper. “Tell me how to help.”

He could lament on his actions later. Right now, if Tenma needed anything, that had to come first.

The doctor looked at him with careful eyes, but a slightly warmer glimmer brightened in their depths. Whatever he saw when he looked at Grimmer, it didn’t make him afraid. 

“I’m all right. It’s not that bad. Though my wrist might be broken or fractured…”

Dark eyes flicked between Grimmer and the first aid kit.

“We need to deal with the swelling first. Ice should help keep it down to a minimum. A bag should be enough, or a cloth with a few cubes.”

Grimmer was swift to oblige, returning with a plastic bag with ice. He held it out, and Tenma took it carefully, holding it to his forearm. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the ice doing what little it could to soothe him. After a few moments, though, he looked back to Grimmer.

“I’m almost positive there’s a break...we should at least dress it. Do you think you can do that?”

Grimmer blanched, but grabbed a roll of gauze from the medical kit regardless. Blue eyes lifted to Tenma’s, worried and waiting. Tenma said nothing, merely nodded. He took the ice away and held out his arm, inviting.

Grimmer reached out slowly, careful as he handled the man’s forearm. He took a length of the roll and started carefully, barely ghosting Tenma’s skin with his touch. Even so, it was enough to jostle Tenma’s injury; the man flinched, hissing quietly in pain. Grimmer paused, staring down at the wound he’d inflicted. He could feel his hand tremble. Felt as Tenma’s other hand, his good hand, reached over to steady him.

“It’s okay.”

No, it wasn’t.

“I’m the one who provoked you. I wasn’t thinking. I did something stupid and I’m facing the consequences for it.”

Grimmer shuddered, closing his eyes and leaning forward. He took Tenma’s good hand gently… _gently_ in his own, clutching it with only the faintest of grasps. It fit snugly between his hands, confident and trusting that Grimmer would do nothing to harm him. Tenma trusted him even after...

“I’m…the one who did this to you.”

He squeezed that hand.

“I could have killed you.”

Deep, dark eyes watched him. Tenma didn’t say anything, not at first. He was observing, taking in everything that Grimmer lay so openly; his fear, the haunt in his eyes, the hesitance with which he approached his good friend almost as though he were handling glass or porcelain - something delicate. The keen awareness Grimmer had of his hands, of what they were doing, of just how much he applied force as he held onto Tenma’s hand. His emotions were bare to Tenma, the one person who he felt safest to share them. 

It felt like minutes had gone by when Tenma’s fingers curled in around that hand, his own grip much more firm. He leaned toward Grimmer, head bowing a little. Grimmer had turned his own gaze downward, away from the doctor’s eyes.

“No. You wouldn’t have killed me. I was afraid, but...Steiner…”

Tenma trailed off. He pulled his hand free from the gentle grip it was cradled in, and moments later Grimmer could feel it gently on his face, fingers spreading over his cheek, tilting his head up. Warm. This time, though, the warm feeling wasn’t one of struggle, but one of conviction.

“I was irresponsible. You were...scared. You weren’t _here_ anymore. I thought if I...that if I held onto you I could ground you, but you were already past that point. It was too much. Too fast. There was no way for you to adjust to that, so your mind...you made it a part of what you were seeing. Steiner was protecting you. But I...I stopped moving. I lay still and I didn’t move, and Steiner didn’t hurt me.”

Tenma drew a gentle line along Grimmer’s jaw, his smile lighting warmly. He shook his head.

“Steiner isn’t just a wild beast. He’s there to protect you. When I stopped moving...when I showed that I wasn’t dangerous...he didn’t do anything more to hurt me. I was disarmed and that was enough. You wouldn’t have killed me. I _know_ you wouldn’t.”

That alone was a lot to absorb. But Tenma still wasn’t done. His hand slipped from Grimmer’s jaw, reaching to gently hold his wrist. He guided Grimmer’s left hand toward himself, so that his palm was flat against the doctor’s shirt, where he could feel the collarbone. Grimmer’s fingers rested gently a little higher, just brushing his neck. He could feel muscles shift ever so slightly as Tenma swallowed. 

Grimmer’s eyes raised in alarm, but Tenma held fast, that sharp assurance piercing in his gaze.

“This is you. And I know you wouldn’t hurt me. There’s nothing that you need to apologise for, or feel the need to protect me from. I trust you. I made a mistake, and I’ve learned for the future. It’s okay. You-”

“I _can’t._ ”

Grimmer blurted it softly, but with enough of a sound to his voice that Tenma hesitated. There was a slight relaxation in Tenma’s grip and he took advantage of it, quickly drawing his hand away from soft skin. It hadn’t been a bad feeling, this time...the slow way the doctor’s chest moved, the vague feeling as he swallowed and spoke. But the purple bruising there…

“Not yet. I can’t. I still…”

Grimmer’s fingers curled in, digging into his palm as he looked with those desperate eyes toward Tenma.

“When you were fighting to breathe, and my hands were...I can still _feel_ it.”

It wasn’t that Grimmer didn’t trust himself with Tenma. Everything he’d said was right; Steiner was a reactive force - it was why those men in the schoolhouse still had life in them by the end, why Suk was never harmed. Why Zeman, whose threat had been exponentially greater, was beaten to death. Tenma reduced himself as a threat, and so long as he stayed neutralized, there was nothing to worry about. Grimmer understood that all of what Tenma said was right, and that dwelling on it wouldn’t help. 

But that _feeling_ made him sick, haunted him. He couldn’t recall a time he had ever been awoken in the middle of that sort of experience; Steiner would generally disappear once his job was done. So to wake while he was still crushing someone’s throat….even if the intent was never to kill, even if he immediately let go, that was a foreign, and terrifying, feeling. 

After a few moments, Tenma relented. He nodded slowly, allowing Grimmer to continue bandaging his arm in quiet. That was tranquil at least; the quiet allowed him to focus on his task...and if there was anything that gave him some amount of peace, it was the notion that, right now, his hands were helping to heal.

“You’re not hurting at all.”

It was less a question and more a statement; Tenma made a small sound of affirmation that Grimmer took to be agreement. When he was finished, he sat back again, not quite sure what to do now. His hands found a place on his lap, and he just sat watching Tenma as he took the ice to his wrist again, wincing just a little.

“Definitely fractured. But I’ve dealt with worse. This is nothing.”

It didn’t make him feel any better, but Tenma probably wasn’t trying to set him at ease; there was an almost rueful sound to his voice. Much more likely he had recalled one of his uglier moments from the past...he had told Grimmer about those incidents - the terrifying Nazis, that was something horrible to imagine...really, a fractured wrist was little more than a skinned knee to someone as world-weary as Tenma. As the both of them, really.

Tenma managed to relax himself, sitting backward with his good hand holding the ice to his wrist. He closed his eyes, facing forward.

“Those sketches. Something that you saw triggered you.”

Back to the questions...though, in fairness, thinking about that was definitely better than thinking about the terrible phantom pressure nested in his hands. Grimmer closed his eyes as well then, clasping his hands a little tighter together.

“It was that man from the sketches. The third. Walter...Delbrück.”

“You knew him.”

Grimmer nodded, though the gesture went unseen.

“I didn’t know his name. But when Suk mentioned he was a Colonel...that’s how I remember. ‘The Colonel’...he was someone scary...scarier than Behrman. Always in the dark. Watching me watch the Magnificent Steiner. He dragged me by the arm into that room. His whole hand could fit mine just inside the palm.”

It was strange...those were strange details to remember. ‘Colonel’...the size of his hand...but he never called that man anything else, and it was the tug of his wrist he remembered the most.

But there was more to it. That moment…

_You’ll stop that crying. Am I to pity you? What do you want, boy?_

_Tell me again, why is it that you’re here? Whose fault is it that you’re all alone?_

_Until you can be a good boy, we’ll keep coming back here. Everyone will forget you, and you’ll be alone, even with the other boys. Think about that a while._

He shuddered. Shook his head.

“They said such awful things. Behrman...the Colonel...and I remember…”

Grimmer opened his eyes again, staring down at his hands. He stared at them, drawing a slow breath, watching his fingers curl in, as they bunched into fists. Something felt tight in his chest.

“You remember…”

The gentleness of Tenma’s voice was a soft prompt, the anchor that he needed. He swallowed thickly, turning his gaze toward the doctor.

“I got angry. So...unbelievably _angry._ ”

Both were silent, because they both knew what that meant. It went beyond strange questions and lights and false perceptions; there was more this time. Awakening a deep anger in him...there was only one possibility. And the more Grimmer thought about it, the more easy it became to remember. But the more he remembered, the more unsteady he felt. The more agitated. He felt himself closing in, shutting down. He’d already hurt Tenma once. He couldn’t do it again.

Wouldn’t.

But he could feel those questioning eyes on him. Tenma wanted to know, but he wouldn’t ask; it wasn’t his place, that was what he would say. Grimmer had to volunteer that information. Tenma was ever so careful with his heart, and with his memories. That reluctance was probably why Grimmer felt comfortable to share with him; Tenma bore it like a burden, he didn’t seek that knowledge for any reason beyond his promise of help. That was something admirable.

“They...wore me down. They did it together. The Colonel would...I don’t know what, exactly...but he created situations. A place where I was trapped and threatened. I know that I woke up in the infirmary a lot of times. And once...that day, on the day Adolf gave me his cocoa…”

His shoulders tensed and relaxed once. Some of it was still more feeling than images...but he couldn’t imagine that Tenma...would want to know that part. It was an unforgivable thing, for an adult to threaten or harm a child.

“I remember what comes after that much better. Behrman...he would talk to me. It’s my fault. I got hurt because...I wasn’t listening. The Colonel wouldn’t have to be so rough if I...did what I was supposed to. Told me that I was a failure...that I was never going to leave. That I’d eventually...probably...that I would die like the other…like the other...”

"Grimmer."

He froze. His own name. The sound was unexpected, but he listened through the haze.

“It’s okay. Slow down and breathe. You don’t have to say it all right now.”

How desperate Grimmer felt just to hear that voice...something, anything to banish that whisper, ever so clear now in his mind. He latched onto Tenma’s kind encouragement. Did what he said. Slow...slow breathing. Calm himself.

He opened and closed his eyes, not quite able to focus on anything in particular. Finally he let them rest, content in the dark as his lashes fluttered just a little, vague trickles of light filtering into the quiet calm.

Tenma standing at the door...as they had walked inside, when he turned in the front door...that moment had been too similar to something that happened in that place. And that something was a prelude to the birth of Steiner.

He knew of course that Steiner had come about somehow...that he hadn’t always been there. But it was a bit sickening, a bit uncomfortable, to think that those two adults had really… _done_ that to a child. Not just to him, but to others. Beating and abusing them, blaming them for it, striking their nerves harder and harder until they reached a breaking point, until their minds...until something became _other._

A human being really created that. Created Steiner. Perhaps other Steiners.

Sudden contact against his cheek made Grimmer flinch, eyes opening abruptly, his heart jolting in his chest. Tenma didn’t pull that touch away, but he had his eyes on Grimmer - watching for discomfort, waiting to see if he was intruding. After a moment Grimmer relaxed, closing his eyes and bowing his head, allowing the touch. Tenma’s fingers moved gently across his cheek, tracing his face with quiet care. Grimmer could feel the smallest pangs of something almost like pain in his chest, though he couldn’t place just why; he wasn’t afraid, or sad. Tenma’s touch brought him such a warm and kind feeling, enough that he felt lost in it.

With his eyes closed, he didn’t see when Tenma moved, but he could feel it - the sudden nearness of the doctor, their faces almost touching, soft puffs of breath reaching him. Tenma’s guiding fingers shifted, resting beneath his chin and tilting his head gently with intent. Grimmer knew it was coming, allowed it anyway, and yet somehow he was still surprised by the softness of lips that found his - fleeting, chaste, definite.

As blue eyes opened, it was to find the bright of Tenma’s reflecting back, watching, waiting. Sleepy eyelids drooped, lashes fluttered, but he was watching all the same. Grimmer said and did nothing; he simply sat there, Tenma’s hand still cupping his chin, face still so near. He said nothing only because he couldn’t think of anything to say. The feeling seemed to be mutual; Tenma looked as though he _wanted_ to speak - perhaps to comment on his feelings, on the suddenness of his actions, but when he opened his mouth, all he could do was hesitate, blink, then close it again. He made no move to kiss Grimmer again - the first had been an ask, and if Grimmer expressed no interest he couldn’t imagine the doctor would pursue.

Grimmer didn’t _kiss_ him, but a hand raised up, gentle… _gentle…_ he could only be gentle with Tenma. He allowed his fingers to thread in wavy locks of hair, resting eventually at the nape of his neck. The second rose, combing bangs, brushing them behind the doctor’s ear. He leaned forward, so that their foreheads touched, then held his place there and breathed...did nothing but breathe. Feeling Tenma so close was more than enough.

Something damp tickled his cheek, and he realized with lethargic surprise that he was weeping ever so slightly.

Despite everything, despite his own quiet fears, he leaned forward and put his arms around Tenma, allowing his face to rest against the man’s shoulder. The doctor was swift to pull him closer, raising his arms into a tight embrace, his injured hand resting carefully while the other clung to the taller man. There was something agitated about the gesture, about Tenma. But he understood, just as he understood why the doctor worried as much as he did. These were things he was remembering...things that had already happened, that he couldn’t prevent. So he did all he could in the present with care and comfort.

He let the moment last a while. Tenma made no move to end the embrace; it was _for_ him, he was the one who drew comfort from it and Tenma wouldn’t take that from him. Finally though Grimmer did pull back, threading fingers through Tenma’s hair slowly, letting his thumb brush the doctor’s cheek.

“I suppose I’ll be doing the cooking by myself for a little while.”

* * *

For the time being their efforts had been put on hold. Nothing new came from Lunge, Suk or Gillen, and for now that suited Grimmer just fine. Tenma was more than right; his eagerness to keep pushing had put him in a place where Tenma was at risk. He had caused that situation, and so for now, he spent his time doing what he could for the doctor.

It was harder to be close. Sleeping...that was almost frightening. He knew his nightmares could become volatile, and the idea of putting Tenma through any more of his pain was simply unthinkable. He knew the doctor didn’t see it that way - that to him, it was simply a risk he chose to accept - but Grimmer refused to become that risk. It was one thing for Tenma to accept consequences for foolish action; it was another to be the cause of that consequence.

The fracture on his wrist was fairly mild; though the swelling had been quite frightening, a quick hospital visit told them that the worst of it was the bruising. He would recover quickly enough, but was advised not to use his right hand for a while. Grimmer was more than happy to be that hand.

But…

Even now, he could still see, and hear, and feel things. Brief moments, small rememberings that became clearer over time. By opening that door, he had unleashed infinite small internalized moments into his mind. They were coming back faster now, faster than before. But they brought a vividness of anger with them; tense and roiling emotions, feelings that he had had as a boy.

Tenma had promised to be his anchor, to keep him from sinking deeper into his mind, but the grip was too tight. The tug of those memories was too strong. Tenma wanted to help him...had done so much already, more than he ever needed to do. If he stayed any longer, the chances of another incident were greater.

The decision was one made not without considerable thought. Not without considerable days. But in two weeks he felt no safer near the doctor despite all promises that Steiner would not kill. 

The truth was that Grimmer...wanted to know. He could hear those whispers in his mind...pieces, jumbled, all there inside. He wanted direction. He wanted to put them together, to make them whole. But to do that, he had to accept those chaotic feelings.

To do that, Tenma could not be with him.

He had no discussion with the good doctor, because he knew it would never end well; he knew that, should he try, Tenma’s gentle voice, his hopeful idealism, would win. If he was to have this, he had to take that decision into his own hands. Tenma would not be put at risk. 

Grimmer looked down on the sleeping figure, resting a tentative hand on his shoulder. He let his fingers spread slowly, drawing a small line with his index finger. Tenma breathed so easily, so calmly. There were no hints he was in pain, though perhaps even in sleep he hoped to hide it. He looked peaceful, with his hair a haphazard mess that Grimmer ached to thread with his fingers. He resisted the pull, because he knew if he indulged too long, if he waited, his resolve would collapse.

It had to be this way.

He had already hurt Tenma once. Though he had recovered, images of Tenma’s wounds still flickered behind his eyelids. The purpled skin around his throat and the bandages that wrapped his arm were both sins that Grimmer had to bear, that he had to live with now. The sound of his piercing cry was a scar that wouldn’t leave for a long while. 

It was for the best that he go, that he do this himself, where he could no more hurt the people that he loved. In the end, finding himself was a solitary journey. Tenma had done his part; the rest was to be on his own.

Still, he wouldn’t be cold. Not to Tenma. He couldn’t.

Slowly Grimmer pulled away, his hand leaving the doctor’s shoulder. He pulled his sweater up and over his head, a bit cooler wearing only his black undershirt. He shivered once, stepping forward as he lay the warmer garment over Tenma. The doctor breathed peacefully, unassuming and unknowing. Grimmer closed his eyes, aware of the tension that was slowly, numbly, building in his chest.

“Sleep well, Doctor Tenma.”

He said nothing else, and in that moment, forced himself to turn away.

It wouldn’t be forever. Just for now. Just while he pursued his past. Tenma had been through enough already, too much, and moving forward it would only get worse. Grimmer didn’t know what he might find. Didn’t want to cause Tenma any further grief and pain. After that…once he’d found himself, if Tenma still wanted to see him…Grimmer would look for him then.

But for now he left him with a memory, something warm for the cold nights, as he allowed himself to disappear once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAA this chapter was the gentle catharsis I needed....mostly. Except the end. I can't let it be TOO happy yet...
> 
> That last several paragraphs was actually the very first part of the story I had written.....


	11. Grimmer Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More child abuse and psychological abuse in this chapter :( Let him get some got dam rest

“I...I’m sorry. I didn’t think...I never expected…”

Suk’s voice was a stammer, his face a dusted pink. Tenma could give him no consolation, no reassurance as he usually might. In the past day, Grimmer had gone, leaving him only with his yellow sweater as any indication the man had ever been present. Waking to the echoes of his own voice was painful, but not as painful as the realization that Grimmer had planned this. Possibly known it would come to this all along. Leaving behind his sweater was something...an apology, a memory, but it definitely...it felt _final._ And that was terrifying.

He had taken his bag with him, though emptied enough of its contents - things he felt he wouldn’t need for this solo journey. Behrman’s book was gone, as were Suk’s sketches. Their own findings had been left, but Grimmer had spent days copying what he needed into his journal; he didn’t need the originals any more.

Faced with an embarrassed Suk, Tenma could say nothing at all because he was himself hollow. He barely understood what he felt right at the moment. Only that he was afraid.

“When he came to collect the letters I’d seized I assumed you were just working separately. I didn’t know he’d actually…”

Suk trailed off, visibly dejected. Tenma still couldn’t find it in himself to offer any sort of reassurance. He blinked at the young man, eyes heavy.

“And when was it would you say that he arrived?” 

“When he…” Suk paused, taking a moment to think before he ran his mouth. He swallowed, turning toward the large clock in the office, a bit dazed for a moment. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head.

“It couldn’t have been later than eleven.”

Which meant that he hadn’t gone directly to the police station. Grimmer had been elsewhere, doing _something._ Covering his tracks? Planning the way forward? And now….

“And he didn’t say where he was headed.”

Suk shook his head. 

It wasn’t very helpful. Grimmer could be anywhere. He had what he’d come for in Prague. Was he going back to Germany? Was there any _reason_ to go back? Something...someone…

No, he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything.

Tenma was left completely in the dark.

* * *

It was easier to remember things, without Tenma around.

Well...no...that wasn’t quite it. The difference was more...Grimmer felt safer about it, more free; he could release those inhibitions that kept him from accessing volatile memories, truly painful ones, memories that were not safe around another person, not even Tenma. Allowing himself to remember...that meant letting go. He supposed that it was only fair...in order to gain something so precious as his past, he had to release something else.

It felt a bit terrible, to leave Tenma that way. He had taken his time...he had been absolutely sure that Tenma’s recovery had come far enough along before he even considered such a rash course of action. But he hoped that Tenma understood. That he recognized...he hadn’t left with any ill intention toward the doctor. This was a choice he made, to go the rest of the way alone. Tenma had always respected his boundaries; he had no doubts that Tenma would be hurt, but in time, he would understand.

And hopefully, he would be able to forgive.

_”Why don’t you tell me...what do you like about that program?”_

They were clear, oh so clear. Swirling voices and smells and feelings that needed to find order, things that existed in a void that had no shape. That was the inside of his mind right now; reeling, confused, and a little bit afraid. 

_”No, that’s not the right answer. Why don’t you try again.”_

The sooner he could put it together, the sooner he could finally lay this all to rest.

But before that...

“You’re...asking me to lie.”

Suk had been anything but enthuzed to see Grimmer alone, certainly even less so when he revealed his intentions. Unenthuzed, but he had made no immediate call to stop him, either.

“I suppose it makes sense that you would find that a bit uncomfortable. You’re a good boy.”

Suk’s nose wrinkled at being called a _boy,_ but once again he didn’t directly object; he respected Grimmer at least enough to allow it this one time.

“I just don’t understand why. Tenma can take care of himself. Isn’t this a little…”

He trailed off, but any number of words would have sufficed; reckless, foolish, headstrong, to name only a few. Grimmer relaxed, holding onto the sealed stack of letters Suk had handed over to him, however reluctantly. He turned away, Suk’s eyes still burning into the side of his head.

“I hurt him.” he murmured. “With my own hands. And it was only lucky that it wasn’t worse.”

Suk had gone still then, silent. He knew inherently what Grimmer meant - not that _he_ had harmed Tenma, no….but the other side, the terrifying personality that he had witnessed at the schoolhouse on that wretched day. Grimmer didn’t have to look to feel the fear, to know that Suk already understood.

“The further I go looking into my past, the closer I am to _him._ And I don’t want to wake up like that again. It’s safer this way. Safer if I go alone. You understand that, don’t you?”

The silence that followed held an answer charged with feeling. Lying to the good doctor wasn’t something that Suk would want to do...certainly not after the man saved his life. The young detective squared his shoulders, looking over Grimmer, finally meeting his eyes once more with a respectably stoic look.

“I’ll do it.”

The look in his eyes said that there was more on his mind.

“But that’s it. If he asks where you’re going, I’ll tell him I don’t know. That I thought you were still working together. But if he has any reason to suspect anything….if Lunge...if _anyone…_ then I’m coming clean. Because they’re going to worry about you, and I won’t get in their way. Because _I’m_ worried too.”

“Very good. And in that case, there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me, if you wouldn’t mind…”

. . . . .

It had been the most that Grimmer was able to get the young detective to promise, but it would do; Tenma would have no reason to suspect anything of Suk, and would chalk it up to youthful ignorance. But worry….each of them, worried…

Well...he would have to apologise for that later.

For now, Grimmer’s focus was on the letters that Suk had released. From what he had taken the time to read, the Colonel, Hartmann and Behrman were exchanging information - some concerning Kinderheim and the Red Rose Mansion, and some speaking to far more recent endeavours - memories that Tenma would perhaps have a greater recognition toward. 

With Behrman away on his ‘assignment’, he had no access to Kinderheim and its goings-on, leaving Delbrück and Hartmann as his closest informants. Undoubtedly he hoped to learn more about Pedrov’s removal from the project, and the fate of “Wolf’s project”. But of his _own_ letters…

Though no address was given, Grimmer could piece together landmarks from the man’s writing. Behrman had an impeccable vocabulary, and each word rang in his mind with that voice. 

_The sun falls earlier and earlier as time passes. I’m afraid there’s not much to be done these days. If not for the view, I might find myself mad by now. I see serenity in the forest that takes me away from the mundanities of my troubles. Though I must admit, the castle mars what could be a true picture of beauty. I suppose however that cannot be helped._

A castle and a forest. If Behrman was staying in a place like that….

Well, it couldn’t be far from the Red Rose Mansion.

First, of course, he couldn’t very well go about Prague looking the way he did. Tenma would come looking, at least at first; he would rather not be spotted so immediately. Grimmer bought himself something new - a dark purple-red, almost burgundy sweater that felt oddly heavy and didn’t rest quite the right way on his frame, and a light toque to at least partially mask his mess of dark blond hair. 

It felt strange, a little bit hollow as he took to the streets once more. He couldn’t quite describe it; ordinarily, when he hiked through the woods or ventured down marvellous city streets, he was content. But it was that ache of leaving, the image of Tenma waking by himself that filled his mind right now. It was necessary, but it wasn’t _easy._ Tenma _had_ been his anchor, something stable in a frightful time. That was gone now. Even hearing the gentle lulls of birdsong, surrounded by the lush green of the woods, it didn’t quite reach his ears.

Surrounded by the forest, with a castle view in the distance…

It was certainly a distinctive landmark, one that made his search just a little easier. 

Grimmer admired the architecture within Prague. The near-fairytale look of it all. And now, even here, he found himself in the middle of a fairytale; not quite a cabin in the woods, but an old, rustic home as isolated as one might expect - as much the home of a huntsman as there could be. Though in this story, the huntsman was a villain.

It seemed to be abandoned, but that was expected; it hadn’t been reclaimed by the forest, it wasn’t quite that aged, but the thickness of underbrush that surrounded it spoke of several years’ lack of tending.

Five, if Suk’s letters had been any indication.

“The monster who lived inside this little home disappeared some time ago…”

He spoke openly, to no one but himself and perhaps the few birds who bothered to listen. There were no signs of anyone else - no other humans in the area. 

At some point, Behrman had been released. During that time, he had returned to the place he had last been living. But five years ago, something… _something_ happened. The letters he exchanged stopped, rather abruptly, with no explanation. Had he moved so quickly, had a reason to leave? A forced relocation, or a summons from what scraps were left of that group and their ideals? If it was five years ago, the man Peter Capek would still have been active. A summons from him, perhaps.

Regardless of what happened to the man, this place...perhaps there were answers to be found.

Grimmer opened the door. He pulled it wide, not entirely surprised that the door was neither locked nor bolted shut. Inside it was dusty, the air scented with age. He paused in the doorway, bringing an arm up to his face as he sneezed once, twice into his elbow. Dust itched slightly at his eyes, and he coughed. He took the hat from his head, using it to swipe - albeit uselessly - at the particles of dust floating about.

Something caught his eye - movement, just a flicker, and he turned to find himself face to face with his own dusty reflection.

He walked closer to the wall mirror, watching the figure there walk closer. He didn’t quite look like himself, but then that was the point; the sweater, the hat, that certainly felt wrong. But the face...his face wasn’t quite the warm facade he usually wore. There was something colder about it, a mask that was deteriorating, that he could no longer properly maintain.

A large nose, blue eyes, untidy almost brown hair...had he looked that way, as a small boy?

_”You’ll turn out just like the others. I’ve already considered who will replace you. You’re simply another failure to join the rest. If that’s enough for you, then so be it.”_

Faces...photographs. There were framed pictures. Not in that room...not in the _dark_ room, this was another place. They were other boys, others like himself. Boys that died in that orphanage. Sometimes...yes, sometimes they took him there, when they punished him. A reminder that he was no more permanent than they were. That he was fragile. 

Grimmer reached forward, using his sleeve to wipe the dust from the mirror. Gave the face a good, long look in the eye, because he was _here_. Alive. He had proven Behrman wrong.

Moving past the front foyer, he started to explore room by room. It was as much an ordinary home as he might expect, though he found himself gravitating toward what looked to be a large, spacious study. A respectably large desk stood by the window, with a desk lamp. There were two drawers, each locked, though he saw no key, not right away. But there would be one, somewhere. He _did,_ though, take interest in the bookshelf; familiar books penned by familiar authors. Scherbe, Poppe, Bonaparta...more, all undoubtedly pen names of the same man. Though, one was missing; the final book, the last to his collection. “A Peaceful Town” was nowhere to be found.

There was no sign of photographs, nothing to indicate that Behrman had any contact with his son. Though, those could easily be inside that locked drawer. Something to pick it with…

Grimmer wasn’t a spy for nothing. There were always tricks to this sort of thing, and with a simple key lock, it wasn’t difficult to break his way in; anything relatively small and straight would suffice as long as he could reach the lock mechanism. With a little back and forth jiggling, there was a click; he tried the drawer again, and this time it opened.

What he saw first was a bundle of bound papers. Letters, perhaps. A quick glance showed them to be just that - unfinished letters, all addressed to Edward. A father who simply did not know how to speak to his child…

Something hid at the back of the drawer gave him pause, though only briefly. A photograph - old, but a little familiar. Grimmer fished it free, staring at the man who stared back with that large and unpleasant face. Suk’s sketch was accurate; even so, seeing the Colonel rendered in the image of a human was daunting, for just that moment. He couldn’t help but clench his hand just slightly, feeling the photograph crease from his grip.

In the picture, he wore a sling. It was hard to gauge when the photograph was taken, and there was no marking on the back to indicate it, nor its significance. There was a single square of tape, however, stuck to the left corner; it had clearly been in someone’s album for a time, removed, and deposited here. Though there was no album to speak of.

The rest was of lesser interest; a postcard, a pack of cigarettes, three pens and a scribbled-on piece of paper. The second drawer held a little bit more; a key, tagged with the letter E. A journal that lamented Behrman’s inability to send his own son a letter with the “right” words, a fear that he had lost too much during his time imprisoned. There was a bottle with no label, and Grimmer couldn’t think to guess what sort of drug the tablets inside might be. Small, flat, and round, he really didn’t know the first thing to guess what…

Faintly, he heard a creak.

Grimmer closed the journal, lowering it down onto the desk as he stopped, focusing his attention outward. The sound was gone, but there was no mistaking it. He’d definitely heard something a moment before - the door, or that was what it sounded like. 

So there was company after all...

He breathed quietly through his nose, moving first to draw the drapes across the forest-facing window next to the study desk, then stepping toward the wall nearest to the study entrance. Most likely, there would be at least one agent outside; if that was the case, the best he could do was blind them. The curtain was thick and heavy - not enough to completely block out movement, but enough that anyone from the outside wouldn’t be able to discern which shape belonged to friendlies and which did not. 

As for his guest…

Grimmer waited and listened. It was possible he had simply been paranoid, that what he “heard” was nothing at all. But it was better this way, safer; the alternative was to take a risk and quite easily wind up dead, something that Tenma would very probably not want to happen. And after what was now months of telling the good doctor to be careful, he opted to take his own advice.

The smallest of creaks came again, from above. With no direction to know where he might be, undoubtedly his would-be assailant was working the top level down; it made sense that way, if Grimmer was already on the upper level and was made aware of a threat, his instinct would be to go down and to escape, only to - probably - be gunned down by the second agent waiting outside.

Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone else on the lower floor. 

Grimmer kept low, moving quietly through the entrance and back into the hallway, painfully aware of that _other_ thing he had asked of Suk earlier in the morning. 

It was definitely good that he’d thought far enough ahead for that.

The hallway was empty, and Grimmer didn’t particularly have much of a mind to explore the ground floor; if there _was_ someone else with him, he had the advantage drawing them up to the floor above. Higher ground offered more visibility. He made his way up the stairs, keeping to the walls, one hand gripping the weapon at his hip. He definitely owed Suk for this…

His eyes shifted left to right, back and forth along the hall. The creaking had been coming from the far end of the house - which made sense, if the aim was to sweep room by room and ensure Grimmer wasn’t hiding somewhere up there. He could see the movement of a shadow, though; his own soft footsteps were not so perfectly silent, and his guest had undoubtedly heard. 

They were quick; just as soon as he’d spied the shadow, the swift-moving shape of someone darkly clad came into view, the glint of gun metal reflecting in his eyes. He was quicker; the weapon was in his hands, pointed up between the banisters, the bullet fired - one, then a second. Then a third, when his first didn’t meet their target. But the man was faster than anticipated; and like this, he had the upper hand.

Grimmer darted up the remainder of the stairs, keeping his gun trained on his target. He took the cap from his head with one hand, throwing it toward the smaller gunman - a minute distraction, just something to block their view for a split second, but it was enough for him to make those last few bounds up to the landing, lunging toward the man. 

If not with a gun, then with his bare hands, Grimmer was absolutely certain he would win. He took the man down to the ground, using his own inherent strength to pin him, gripping that weapon-bearing wrist and twisting until he let go. The man hissed, even as Grimmer pulled both of his arms behind his back, gripping them in one hand.

“This isn’t particularly tasteful, but….”

With a sharp downward strike from the butt of his gun, Grimmer watched as the man’s skull connected with the floor, waited to be sure he was unconscious.

"Count yourself lucky that it's only me you have to face." he muttered, stuffing the weapon away. “Now what to do with you…”

. . . . .

A little bit of searching later, and Grimmer managed to find a good length of cord, using it to fasten his guest to the chair in the study downstairs. At least while he waited for the man to wake, he could continue his venture of nosing around through Behrmann’s things. There was definitely more to be found here, though Grimmer couldn’t quite say what; it was more a feeling, something about the room that was uncomfortable, tense. Even when he’d thought he was alone, he’d certainly been aware of a heaviness in the air.

What he found from his second look around the room was infinitely more interesting than the contents of the locked desk drawers; scrapes along the floor indicated that something heavy had been moved. The bookshelf where Bonaparta’s incomplete collection sat, by the look of things. It made him just a little curious; while he certainly couldn’t push that thing on his own, he could at least try to peek behind it. 

Pressing himself as much as he could into the wall, Grimmer peered into the small, dark crevice between the wall and the wooden back of the bookshelf. There wasn’t much he could see - it was too dark, and there simply wasn’t enough give for him to maneuver it even a little. He sighed, hands on his hips, and stared up at the rather annoying bookshelf.

That was about when he heard his guest start to stir.

Grimmer turned toward the man, itching the back of his neck.

“I suppose I hit you a little harder than I meant to. You’ve been out a while now…”

The man said nothing, but that was expected. He was completely rigid, watching Grimmer like a hawk. The tall man circled around the room, continuing his nosing around as though there wasn’t a man tied to a chair glaring daggers at him.

“Since you’re awake, I was wondering if you might tell me who it is that sent you? Knowing that would definitely help…”

There was still no answer. No, those sorts didn’t really like to talk…

“I know you’re not here looting, you’re definitely a professional. And you reacted very quickly when you saw me...I can’t be sure if you were sent to kill me, or if you’re after the information in this place. If you were just looking for me, then I’d have to say you chose a bad place to make your move. If I was being followed all this time, then you’d have had plenty of better opportunities to shoot me. You don’t strike me as an amateur, so I think it’s not just about me.”

Grimmer had turned now, facing the man. He let himself do all the talking, watched his prisoner’s expressions. He was stoic, difficult to read, but if he pushed enough, there might be something that would show itself. 

Grimmer opened one of the two desk drawers, pulling out the journal and the incomplete letters. He held them up with a smile.

“I think that what you’re after might have something to do with this. And of course, something else in my possession...but you already know what that is, don’t you? I would imagine that a certain friend of mine may have tipped you off to that, even accidentally…”

Grimmer couldn’t be sure if any of this was true, but he pieced what little information he had available together as he went. The discussion with Lunge, that group “attempting” to erase Behrman...the letters that Suk had managed to acquire based on “other” findings from Grimmer and Tenma….exactly how, and when, did he find those letters? Where had they been before? 

“I have a certain feeling that the letters between Herbert Behrman and his unsavoury penmates are something that your employer very much wants. Something that he was inadvertently made aware of. And if that’s the case, then you’ve probably only been aware of me since those letters passed hands. Would that be right?”

The man just looked up at him, glaring with that scary face of his. He definitely wasn’t the sort of person who could be made to talk...not the way that others might, at least. But it didn’t matter; Grimmer already had an idea who it might be, even if the man refused to answer. 

Grimmer sighed, turning away and setting his stack of letters aside. He peered toward the man over his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to leave you here like this. I can’t afford you or any of your cohorts deciding to put a bullet through me, and you’re definitely not coming along. Though I imagine that your friend will be around to get you out soon enough.”

Though, that didn’t guarantee either would live, if their contract was cutthroat. But that was the nature of that kind of work; they were well enough aware, as aware as those men in Ruehenheim had been. They were the sort that wouldn’t be reasoned with.

As he passed the front foyer, he had to pause. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror, more alive than it had been before. He smiled - _forced_ a smile there onto that face. It looked as convincing as any other, but somehow he knew the difference.

As he reached the front door, something buzzed in his mind. He hesitated, fingers curled around the handle. Closed his eyes. Listened.

_”What do you like about that program?”_

How he could have ever forgotten that voice...such a distinctive voice...right now, it was warm. In this moment he wasn’t afraid of the voice. But something wasn’t right about it, either; warped, wrong. In his mind he remembered another instance, another voice. Another child. A tape. _That_ tape...that boy, Johan Liebert. And this, now…

Now...

Grimmer drew in a deep breath, turned the handle, and pulled. 

There would be time later for those images, those voices. Now...now he had to go to Germany. There was a certain person contained within these letters...a person he would much like to speak to.

Hartmann...just what sort of person was he going to be? Detestable...horrid...but to meet him...Grimmer could only imagine the picture of a monster in his mind. He wondered what the man behind it looked like.

* * *

“Damn it...where could Lunge be right now? For this to have happened…”

“No, relax. It’s...he still has his family, you know. I can’t expect him to drop everything.”

Gillen uttered some small sound of assent, or perhaps embarrassment; it wasn’t exactly difficult to say that he might have forgotten Lunge had any sort of contact outside of work, all things considered. The professor only recently bothered to reconnect with them, after all.

“And you’re sure you’re all right. Tenma, if you were _hurt,_ don’t you think-”

“I’m fine now. I...the worst of it was bruising. My wrist was fractured but I’m okay now. Really.”

It was a bit rude to interject, but he knew Gillen would stress himself otherwise. He couldn’t see Tenma over the phone to know; his only awareness was that, apparently, this happened a week ago and he was only now being informed. To someone like Gillen, who...really, dearly did _care_ for the handful of friends he had, that was a little alarming to come so out of nowhere.

“I think that Grimmer...that he was hurt more. He wasn’t quite himself after that. Almost afraid to touch me.”

A heaviness hung in the air, Tenma’s fingers curling around the neck of the phone. He knew there wasn’t anything he could have done differently, but he still wished he had at least...tried. If he could have communicated it to Grimmer somehow that he was _fine,_ that he _chose_ the risk, then…

Well...there wasn’t much point to it now.

“Yes, that would be right. Just as I’m sure it would be the same the other way around. The only problem is that now, he’s alone. He has been exposed to far more of his past in the last week than I would normally advise; it’s not a healthy headspace he’s in. I wouldn’t be worried if this was...well, _someone else._ But Grimmer is a product of Kinderheim. A spy. Do you _know_ what his end goal is? Or what might happen, if that other personality reveals itself again?”

Tenma’s grip tightened, knuckles tensed. His other hand played cautiously with the winding cord, drawing downward until it fell to his side.

“I don't. I don't know. Rudi...I need to find him. But I don’t...I don’t know where to start.”

It was quiet again, Gillen momentarily startled into silence by the soft use of his first name, a sound that was almost desperate in Tenma’s throat. He took a moment to gather his bearings.

“Let’s think about this from his point of view. Take a minute to step into his shoes. He...wakes up, let’s say, from his episode. Sees you. That spooks him. And you can say that you’re fine all you want; it’s not going to erase what he saw and felt. But...it took him until now to leave. That was because…”

“Because he was taking care of me.”

It hurt just a little to say.

“Right. He thinks, _I inflicted this wound, I should be the one to mend it._ That’s the sort of mindset he has moving forward. But let’s consider; from what you said, he collected the letters that Suk had released. That's an odd first step to take, don't you think? So...there's something he expected to find. Grimmer knows where he’s going. Did you learn anything else from Suk? Anything that might point you in the right direction.”

Tenma’s mouth felt dry. Suk hadn’t...been able to tell them much. The letters were between Behrman, Hartmann, and that man Grimmer called the Colonel. He had sketches that…

That…

“Tenma?”

His chest felt tight. That man….that _man…_ he remembered his face perfectly, from that night in the ruins of Kinderheim. The way he howled when Dieter was taken away. _That_ man…a man who _knew_ these people...

Tenma’s head bowed forward, fingers curling into a fist.

“Sorry. I’ll call you back at five. If Lunge contacts you before then, please let me know. But I need...to know where I can find Hartmann. I need to know where he is.”

And he needed to have another talk with Suk. If this was his project...no, there was no way he _wouldn’t_ have made copies. Those letters…

He needed to see. He needed to know everything that Grimmer did.

* * *

_"Let's start, shall we? Are you ready?"_

_"I'm ready."_

_”Why don’t you tell me now...what do you like about that program?”_

_“What I like…”_

_“Yes. That can’t be hard, can it? Do you know what you like?”_

_Kind voice. Want to listen. Honest. It’s good to be honest._

_“I like the boy.”_

_“You like Anton?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“And do you like the Magnificent Steiner?”_

_“Do I…”_

_“Let me see...does it make you happy to see him?”_

_“N…o.”_

_“And can you say why that is?”_

_..._

_“I’m asking you why you don’t like Steiner. Can you tell me that?”_

_“He’s a bit scary.”_

_“But only to bad people. Are you afraid because you think you’re bad?”_

_“No. I just think he’s scary.”_

_“Do you think the bad people deserve to be scared of Steiner?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Oh, that was much faster. Now let’s see...why do you like Anton?”_

_“Because Anton is like me.”_

_“And why do you think that?”_

_Scared. Small. Alone._

_“Why do you think you’re like Anton?”_

_“I’m not strong.”_

_“And you want a superhero like Steiner to save you?”_

_“I want…”_

_“Do you deserve to be saved?”_

_“Have you really been good? Do you think you deserve it? Haven’t you been a failure?”_

_“How many lights do you see? Can you tell me that now?”_

Grimmer’s heart was racing when he woke, and he felt the faintest mist of wetness at the corners of his eyes. No words were whispered at his side, no hand came up to touch his face. He was by himself, very definitely alone. He knew that inherently, of course, but there was something about waking like that...he wasn’t quite expecting it would feel this way. Empty. 

Perhaps he had gotten too used to Tenma’s presence; the absence of it now was wounding. But he had already told himself; this was the only way forward. The only way that wouldn’t put Tenma at any further risk.

But that dream...that had been a memory. And he could feel it, now; that had been...he had felt a taste of it the day prior, as he left Behrman’s fairytale home. He remembered it much better now. A well-lit room with an uncomfortable plastic chair. He was in the chair...the light overhead flickered a lot, but it gave off enough light that Grimmer could see the two faces inside. Behrman was one, and the Colonel was the other. He stood in front of the door like a guard. And Behrman asked him...he asked…

The questions seemed nonsensical. Asking him about Steiner...it served some sort of purpose, but Grimmer couldn’t ascertain what that might be, even now. What he _did_ know...what he was certain of…

He had felt compelled to answer.

He thought back again, to that tape recording. That thing that had caused so much trouble...that the Czech Secret Police had been willing to kill him for. The boy on that tape...he had been drugged, there was no mistaking it. And his own memory, that room...he, too…

Grimmer supposed he wasn’t surprised. Not really. Of all the things that happened in that place, drugging the orphans was quite mild. But it did beg the question as to just what the purpose of it was. Those questions...

The sooner he spoke to Hartmann, the sooner he might have his answers.

. . . . .

At least one good thing that came of his and Tenma’s lengthy journey - more so Tenma’s, in this particular case - was the arrest of Dr. Hartmann, former district official with the Ministry of Health and Welfare. While it wasn’t known if he had ever been an instructor at Kinderheim, his vast knowledge and intimate understanding of Johan spoke volumes; if not a teacher, he at least had been close to the faculty. And just how _long_ he had worked there…

The man who sat behind the glass looked aged. Aged, but not terribly old; not old enough to have been an instructor during Grimmer’s time. Perhaps in training; perhaps learning, readying himself to move up the wretched ladder in that place. The face he had was plain; square shaped, tired, a man who looked to have a broken spirit. And perhaps that was true, but Grimmer could spare no sympathy to him. Not knowing what he had done, even until recently.

He peered up at Grimmer without comprehension. With a certain boredom, even. He clearly had no idea just who this “visitor” of his was, or why he had been called upon. Grimmer took his time, pulling his chair forward and sitting down. He leaned in, pulling a certain journal from his bag and settling it carefully on his lap. When he looked up to meet Hartmann’s eyes, his own were devoid of feeling.

“You probably don’t know who I am.” he started, his voice lower than usual. Colder. He could hear and feel the change, even though it hadn’t been intentional. “There’s plenty I know about you, though. Who you were. The sort of things that you did at 511 Kinderheim. The orphanage where Johan Liebert was raised. The same place that I was raised, a long while before him.”

That earned a small bit of curiosity. A narrowing of eyes and a quick once-over. Hartmann sat back, sat straight. He was invested now, certainly.

“And what is it that you want from me, then. Answers? Do you suppose I have them?”

“I imagine that you do, yes. At least some of them.”

Grimmer flipped open his journal, pulling one of a number of letters he had neatly tucked between the pages. He held it up, though didn’t bother to keep it level; the point was not for Hartmann to read them, only to know just what he had in his possession.

“I found myself on quite a lengthy journey. One of the treasures that I came across were these; a number of letters between yourself and a man named Herbert Behrman. An individual who seems to have disappeared five years ago, after his release from prison. As you are one of the individuals who had been receiving his letters, I wonder what you might be able to tell me.”

His face was certainly shocked, when Grimmer uttered that name. But it lasted only a moment, soon replaced by a quiet, hollow sounding laugh. The wiry-haired man simply sat there chuckling, though Grimmer couldn’t say just what it was he found so entertaining. What he…

“And _why_ do you suppose I would tell _you?_ Even if I knew, I don’t believe that talking earns me anything.”

He _wanted_ something, then. Grimmer felt a slight smirk tug at his lips, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to give to someone like you. But by that face you made...I’m sure there’s something that you know. I’ll definitely have it, when our talk is through.”

There was another laugh - and a look, one that was unnerving, almost superior even behind the glass.

“But you _have_ given me something. More than you imagine. You don’t _really_ think I wouldn’t recognize you, do you? What was your name...that East German journalist. You were in Ruehenheim. Yes, you’re _quite_ tangled up in all this. I _do_ read the news, I’m well aware of you. But if it’s Behrman you’re after, then there’s not much I can do for you.”

Ah, he was more informed than Grimmer might have thought. He felt a smirk creep at his lips, chuckling softly. 

“No...then, what about Walter Delbrück? What do you suppose you can tell me about him? Since the three of you seem to be quite familiar…”

Hartman’s narrowed gaze seemed snide, even sinister. He shook his head.

“You really think that learning a couple names will lead you to your past? Are you so _desperate_ to know who you were?”

He inclined his head, a dull boredom reaching his wizened features.

“No one. We made you that way, and we did quite a job of it. You were no one as a child, and you’re no one now. It doesn’t matter how much you remember; that fact won’t change. You were just a test, like all the others. An experiment. Nothing more. _You_ were never Johan, after all.”

It didn’t hurt to hear those things. It really didn’t...it probably should have, but Grimmer had long ago accepted what he was made into; that his existence had been thoroughly altered, removing any semblance of a “self” he may have had. The name he was given was a simple convenience for those who needed to call him by it. But even so...even if he wasn’t anyone then…

“Well, that’s not quite true. I’m definitely someone now. There are people in the world who made me into a human again. I have them to thank. But you… _you_ haven’t been anyone, not since Dieter, have you?”

Grimmer closed his eyes. Calm, relaxed. He tapped his fingers against his journal. “I would appreciate it if you’d stop deflecting. What can you tell me about those men…?”

That hollowness was back, and Grimmer was just a little bit glad to see it. Hartmann's venom didn’t cut as it was intended to, but the words lingered; he would think back on them in disgust, at the awareness that, really, the boys of Kinderheim were nothing to the instructors there but experiments. Nothing more than that. How such a cruel sort of person could exist was beyond him.

“As far as I’m aware, Delbrück has been living quietly, avoiding people like you. I certainly haven’t seen him for years. Not since Kinderheim fell apart. The last letter I received from him was years ago.”

Well, that was something. A dead end, but it was something. He had still said nothing about Behrman, though Grimmer didn’t particularly expect an answer. Even so, there was more that this man could offer. One particular thing, something that was fresh in his mind now. Something that this man would probably….

“That television show, the Magnificent Steiner…”

He could feel himself hesitate. His chest tensed. He sort of knew the answer...probably, he had his guesses. But even so, he wanted to know the truth.

“Why...was I allowed to watch that show? Why would I be allowed to enjoy something like that?”

There was a momentary pause as Hartmann seemed to consider an answer. At least this time he looked a little more willing to divulge, though the expression on his face remained to be a bit of an ugly thing. Whatever he had to say was probably nothing good. He closed his eyes, sitting backward for a moment.

“That’s not something I would know. I realize I’m getting along in years, but I most definitely wasn’t involved when _you_ were a child. However, there _is_ one thing I can be sure of. Yes, and I think out of anyone, you should be the one to hear it.”

The look in his eyes as they opened finally had a certain mirthful malice.

“No such television show was ever broadcast. It doesn’t exist. The show that you so dearly remember, that you appear to identify with, was fabricated within those walls. It was produced with a purpose in mind. You’re just the result of an experimental success.”

It was something that Grimmer had wondered. Why _he,_ and only he would ever watch that show. Why it was that no one he’d ever spoken to seemed familiar with it. Even so, there was an ugly feeling of irony about it. He had built such a sense of comfort around that memory; even bore its scars inside his mind, a secret friend who protected him.

It begged another question, though Grimmer didn’t bother to voice it. That hot cocoa that they enjoyed...there was probably a similar catch. He had theorized with Tenma that it was a sort of “carrot” to the boys...that definitely remained possible. It was, though, a bit ugly to think that the only things...the only parts from that place that had felt at all human, were entirely fabricated.

But...that didn’t really matter. Both he...and Adolf...had made something of those memories. It was real for them.

Grimmer closed his eyes, quietly placing his letters back neatly between pages of the journal.

“I’m going to ask just once more what you can tell me about Herbert Behrman. I don’t particularly expect you to tell me anything, but I’ll definitely find him. If not through you, then that boy he adopted. Edward, a boy who began under your care, if I’m not mistaken. I wonder if you were as terrible with him as with your later children.”

Ah, that did it. Hartmann’s face turned stony, his eyes frozen on a spot far along the wall. He stayed that way for quite a time, for several minutes at the very least. Enough that, in the end, Grimmer thought it best perhaps to leave. He hadn’t learned nearly as much as he might have hoped, but that was to be expected from someone such as Hartmann. He simply had no reason to cooperate. But as Grimmer snapped his journal shut and stood, grasping his bag and slinging it back over his shoulder, he caught one thing, just one single thing from that man.

“Lost…”

There was a note of emptiness, that hollow sound that echoed in his eyes when Grimmer had first met the man. He sounded just a little bit betrayed, shaking his head, muttering more to himself than to Grimmer.

“Edward is lost.”

The pain on that man’s face, and the words whispered under his breath...there were many meanings that could have. Few of them were helpful. But it was clear, now, that Hartmann had nothing else to say. If Grimmer was to find anything more, he would have to do it on his own. In the recesses of his memory, in the clues he had written down. He would find something. He was close. He was already this close.

Grimmer stood in the doorway, glancing back one last time toward Hartmann with a cold expression, one that was only given to such monsters as himself.

“Dieter is doing well. Adjusting, living healthfully. He never needed you.”

With that, Grimmer turned around fully, leaving Hartmann to absorb those words alone.

Ah..that wasn’t entirely unlike the childhood he endured, was it…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could just be called "Grimmer punches Hartmann where it hurts: the chapter" like sure the other stuff is important but that was the best bit.
> 
> The pieces are slowly finally fitting together! It's been tough to keep track of all my own details lmao. 
> 
> In my original plan the colonel would have been dead for quite some time but that just doesn't logic because dead people don't write letters. So I changed it a bit...my intention with him in that photograph is - and I’m sure it’s fairly clear but just in case - that Grimmer was the one who injured him when he first became Steiner. Tbh he deserves at least that.
> 
> With any luck....there's only one more chapter left. That's how I have it framed at least, we'll see if that's how it happens!


	12. The Lonely Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied! This is not the last chapter.
> 
> Mentions of child abuse and implied brutal violence.

Two days. Two days had already gone by. But it still felt so fresh, so new. That morning alone...

The first thing that Tenma had thought, when he’d realized Grimmer was gone, had been that it was cold out.

The second was that something was missing, something important.

It was a little bit numb, and a little bit confused, but the fact was that something felt empty. And it was more than just the obvious - the morning by himself, no cheeky smile from the bedside, mutterings from Grimmer as he pored over notes - those were all observed, but the emptiness was something that fluttered and hollowed within. Like Grimmer had taken a piece of him when he left.

He knew, of course. He knew what piece that was. It ebbed painfully, longing, alone.

A part of him wondered if kissing Grimmer had been too much. If he'd pushed the boundaries too far, too quickly. If he'd forced Grimmer's hand. But he knew...he _knew_ now wasn’t the time, that he could hardly expect Grimmer to...to understand, to respond, to his feelings. Much less could he ever expect him to _reciprocate_ them. But waking to no one, to _nothing,_ had put him into a numb and empty state.

If nothing else, his two days alone gave him time to order his thoughts.

Grimmer’s choice to go on his own was something that Tenma still saw as rash and hasty. It was a bad idea, especially if his memories _were_ growing to be more intense. He could understand what motivation his friend might have - that what he was remembering now would be “too much” for Tenma to stomach - and so he opted to take the rest of his journey alone. It made sense in that respect.

The fact that he hadn't even _said_ anything to Tenma spoke volumes. It meant that he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, or that he knew Tenma would be able to convince him to stop. He at least had waited until Tenma’s wrist had healed up, and while nothing was spoken, he hadn’t _quite_ left without a goodbye. The hastily pooled sweater Tenma found at the foot of his bed had a lingering uncertainty; it wasn’t neatly folded, so the decision had come hastily. A hesitation to leave? Or…

Well...it didn’t matter now. Grimmer _had_ gone. And Tenma...Tenma had decided to be selfish. He knew he could leave well enough alone - that he _should,_ that he was meant to respect Grimmer’s wish to be left alone. But if he was going to say goodbye to Grimmer, he wanted to do it properly. He wanted to have a say in it.

Tenma knew better than to rush ahead, though. He wanted to...that was what he _wanted_ to do, but endangering himself without anything to back him up, without Grimmer as his support, wouldn’t end well. So he spent the first two days locked in that hotel room, poring over the copies Suk had provided him. Something seemed almost reluctant in the young detective, a little guilty, but Tenma was too exhausted to look any deeper. He had more important things to manage.

What he learned from the letters Suk had copied wasn’t much. There was a lot of information, but nothing pertaining to anything that seemed useful right now. Nothing that would point him in any particular direction. It was mostly a compilation of Behrman’s laments, after he was released from prison. The world had changed during that time, Kinderheim burned to the ground and the project frozen to a halt. Even the Red Rose Mansion saw no further readings then. To Behrman it was an empty world, one that lacked the intrigue he had found working alongside the Ministry of Welfare. 

It wasn’t the _content_ of the letters that pointed Tenma anywhere. Rather it was one of the names referenced within. Hartmann…

It was through Werner Weber that Tenma learned about Hartmann’s arrest. It had been relieving news on its own; now, though, that served as a starting point for him. This was someone Behrman exchanged several letters with. He was the obvious link to Grimmer’s phantom, and the only one confirmed to be alive.

There was no question; Grimmer would have gone to confront him. Following that path almost seemed a little pointless...by the time he reached Hartmann, there was a good chance Grimmer would already have moved on. And he had a certain suspicion that Hartmann would be much less likely to answer anything _he_ had to ask. The last he’d seen of the man, Tenma had taken his “son” away.

Right now, though, it was the only lead he had.

Familiar East German streets brought no solace to the weary doctor as he made his way along. Shadows of past memories ached in his mind, his own demons that he had finally managed to subdue not long ago. Every now and then he found himself glancing over a shoulder; he felt watched, and something felt familiar. Like Grimmer was there, around the next corner. He wasn’t of course, nor the next, nor any number of twists and turns ahead of him where a man might be concealed, but aching little hopes still fluttered in his mind.

He didn’t want to be here. He had no particular interest in confronting Hartmann again, when he knew he wasn’t going to cooperate. _Not_ to try, though, felt even more foolish.

The world around him seemed to grow silent and still, flashes of memory shifting behind his eyelids with each step. Even now, being in the presence of someone who could be so willfully violent to children made him ill. Dieter's injuries had been severe, and his rescue had been little more than luck. There had been others, countless, before him. And yet somehow that man wore such a calm visage.

By the look that Hartmann fixed him with, it was clear Tenma’s presence had been expected. The man tilted his head, leering up at Tenma through the glass.

“You’re two days late. I’m surprised at you. He’s long gone now.”

Tenma sat slowly, his expression unchanged, unbothered by the taunt thrown his way. 

“Then you know where he’s gone.”

Hartmann closed his eyes, chuckling softly. Despite his predicament, the man carried a nearly superior atmosphere about him.

“On a journey to find impossible answers. It seems that someone inadvertently awakened something in that man, and now he supposes he might fill in the rest of the blanks. Shall I assume you’re the one to have fed him that lie?”

Tenma narrowed his eyes, but kept his face as stoic as possible.

“I want to know what you told Grimmer.”

The glint in Hartmann’s eyes died slowly with a disappointed fizzle when he realized that Tenma wouldn’t be goaded. Instead he simply sighed, turning away to stare at the wall.

“I do believe that telling you would amount to doing you a favour, doctor Tenma. And all things considered, I’d rather not.” 

It was the answer Tenma expected. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to relent.

“Tell me about Edward. He was under your care, until he was adopted by Herbert Behrman, isn’t that right?”

He left the question hanging, staring intently at Hartmann. The man’s expression hadn’t changed; most likely Grimmer had already asked about that boy, so any potential surprise had worn away. 

“If you suppose that he was the only boy adopted by men like Behrman, I’m afraid that’s mistaken. It seems a bit hypocritical for you to take so much interest in just _one_ boy when so many more endured far worse.”

Tenma exhaled slowly, a slight tension in his chest rising. He knew it was just Hartmann trying to distract him, trying to get under his skin. It _was_ working, just a little; he had to keep that to himself.

“That’s where Grimmer is now, isn’t he. Looking for that man’s son.”

Hartmann’s laugh was wheezed, an almost painful sound as he looked coolly into Tenma’s eyes for the first time since he’d ventured in to visit.

“The boy Edward is dead. There’s nothing to be found. All your friend will achieve is an even greater emptiness than before. It must _hurt,_ to come so far for nothing."

He paused, taking a slow, deep breath before he continued his address, staring right at Tenma then.

"There is no humanity left to find in his past. That part of him was removed.”

There was something that didn’t feel right. Something off, almost pained, haunted by Edward. But it was buried under that ugly sneer again, and a threat. Tenma felt that tension in his chest coiling tighter. Grimmer _knew_ he was human. That was absolutely true. He wouldn’t despair. Even if he found nothing, he wouldn’t…

But...no, he _would_ find something. For now, Tenma still believed that.

He closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. Worrying too much...that wouldn’t help either of them. He knew Grimmer was better than this, was _stronger._ Hartmann was trying to scare him. That was all.

“I don’t have time for this. If you don’t have an answer for me then I’ll find him on my own.”

Hartmann didn’t seem fazed at all, even looked mildly bemused as Tenma stood to leave. For him, this was an opportunity to watch Tenma bear the same anxiousness he perceived in himself when Dieter was taken from him. 

The difference, though, was that when Tenma called out to Grimmer, he would answer. Even in the state he was...Tenma didn’t doubt that. 

“Say hello to my boy, when you get a chance.”

Tenma most certainly ignored those words on his way out, sparing nothing, not even a glance.

Even so, he stood there, lingering, just one moment more, his back turned. He could _feel_ those eyes, sharp and biting into him.

“You haven’t asked me.”

Tenma hesitated. Swallowed. Still, he didn’t look.

“Asked what.”

Silence stretched again, and Tenma had to ask himself if anything was said in that span of time at all. Had he imagined that final dialogue, stood there for so long? But he was sure of it, as the feeling of dread amplified in the air around him.

“You want to _know_ , don’t you?” that voice drawled, seeping from behind, twisting and coiling around him. “Where it is that Edward Behrman died.”

Where….

Knowing now that Behrman’s son had died...that changed everything. The lament of the father’s letters, how he couldn’t reach out to his son...it was because he was already too late. Exactly what happened to Edward wasn’t clear, but if that boy had died, it must have happened before the psychologist was released from prison. To return to a changed world, without even the boy he took in…

If Hartmann bothered to tell _Tenma_ , then he had no doubt Grimmer knew the same. And he knew...that was a mystery too enticing. For Grimmer, the story of this man was too closely tied to his own not to look deeper. That was definitely...where he would be.

Finally, slowly, Tenma turned.

“Tell me.”

* * *

There was something almost calming about the rain. With his eyes closed, Grimmer could do nothing but listen to its dull pattering. Nothing but listen, and breathe. And think.

The dark room. The bright room. The Magnificent Steiner, the four lights, his fading memories...questions...incessant questions, things that seemed to mean nothing, but slowly changed the operations of his mind. The same questions...but his answers, those changed...the lessons, the fighting...he learned things, forgot things. Parts of him stopped _being,_ removed...made room. Made room for the Magnificent Steiner. Afraid...angry, and afraid. Hurting, cornered, lonely. That was how Steiner came to be. It was something strong...something that Grimmer registered as a powerful force. A thing that filled the emptiness created by those experiments. And it _did_ something, hurt someone. It hurt someone, in that place. In that room. There was crying in that room. Him...him and someone else. Dark. He couldn’t see, he didn’t know who. They didn’t have a face. Someone else...another boy like him, perhaps. Afraid and alone and angry. Two experiments to be compared in the only way those instructors knew.

And he remembered….

_”I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me. I didn’t.”_

The boy in that moment was more than afraid. It was indescribable, a feeling that twisted, that gripped his stomach and threatened to empty it. Guilt….paralyzing and painful and churning, intermixed with that fear. Confusion. Too many things at once. At that age...to be faced with something so brutal, so violent…

_”No? Then who?”_

Steiner was an idea. A concept, something that manifested itself as a part of him. But that...that was when it became _someone._ An identity, with a name. Faced with a reality that he couldn’t accept, Grimmer...created that identity. Something...something that was scary. Something he didn’t want to be. Something that would be all the things he couldn’t, he _refused_ , to be.

_”The Magnificent Steiner.”_

He didn’t know if that was what they wanted. Perhaps they had hoped he would wholly embody that monstrous form, or perhaps there was something else to it. Grimmer could never know. But in a way...it was an incredible feat. Taking away what made that boy who he “was”...creating a moldable shell...creating something with nothing but fear and loneliness and anger. It was incredible, in a perfectly horrid way.

“You would agree to that, I think.”

Grimmer’s lips curled in a pained little expression directed at no one at all. He shook his head, reaching up to wipe droplets of rain from his face.

“I think that you were like that, too. You were always afraid. And that’s why...you…”

He trailed off, the bemused look fading, vanishing. He knew, of course. There was no mistaking it, now. What had happened between those two...Behrman, and that boy he took in...there wasn’t a doubt in his mind. He could feel it...could very well see it, if he closed his eyes. A horrible scene, like that…

It left him with a sense of emptiness. Lonely…

Lonely…

No, he was already lonely. And in the rain, it only seemed to amplify. Alien...he felt alien, not like himself. Naked, without his sweater. A piece of himself he had left with Tenma, and now ached without it. 

It was an ache he deserved, to have left him without a word. That little pain, if nothing else. A pain to linger, to remember.

There was another place, now. Another thread to follow. Where it happened, that awful scene…

He would find answers there.

* * *

Shadows shaped like Grimmer still flitted at the corners of Tenma’s gaze. Particularly tall and thinly-built blonde men earned the odd startled glance, and were quick to reciprocate with confusion or wariness at the strange foreigner. Tenma fought to ignore them, to accept that his mind opted now to play cruel tricks in its lonely state.

The rain, when it came, was almost welcome, a complement to the dreary feeling that sogged his heart as much as his clothes. Tenma huddled into the warmth of Grimmer’s sweater just a little more, making his slow, plodding way toward Hartmann’s would-be clue.

It wasn’t that Tenma was ready to believe him; he just didn’t have many alternatives at his disposal. At the very least he thought to hear out the former District Official. He had every reason to lie to Tenma, but even the smallest chance he was telling the truth made it worth investigation, at least with caution. But...

He was starting to tire. To hunger. He didn’t much want to stop, not now that he had some form of direction, but he didn’t have much choice. Even if it meant another delay, it was still important that Tenma took time to care for his own needs. Or else he…

Tenma paused, glancing over his shoulder. Something felt tense in his chest again, like it had felt the day before. He clutched slightly at the fabric of Grimmer’s sweater, turning forward once more as he kept walking.

_”You should always keep an eye on the people around you. Even the most inconspicuous...you can usually tell when you’re being followed, they’ll try to match your footsteps and keep a particular distance away. You should definitely watch out, if you have a tail. It's rarely just one man.”_

Tenma shifted his course, heading in another direction now, rerouting through a popular park. He nudged through heavy pedestrian traffic, muttering a few apologies as he jostled umbrellas or his bag bumped into the odd passer-by, his steps just a little hurried now as he made his way ahead.

_”You’ll want to keep to busier streets, where they’ll have a hard time keeping an eye on you. If there’s anything you can lose, any way to change your look, that’s a way to make a quick escape unnoticed. But you should be careful not to seem out of place….if they realize that you’ve caught on, it only means more trouble for you. So walk slowly, if you can. Don’t let it show, and definitely don’t look at them.”_

With just the quickest sidelong glance, Tenma could tell he was still being tailed. Or rather...now he was absolutely certain of it. Lunge’s warning came back to him then, that mention of a “group” that seemed to be active, concerning Behrman…it was possible that right now, they were after both himself and Grimmer as individuals in possession of evidence that man existed. He still couldn’t say what they wanted, there had been no confrontation so far, but if someone was stalking him, he could only assume it wasn’t good.

He kept walking, veering away from the park and along a quieter stretch just past a few small antique shops. But that…

That hadn’t been the right choice.

He realized it quickly enough when a figure further ahead stopped, turning around to face him. Turned, and stood there, simply waiting. Tenma hesitated, glancing both ways. A little further ahead, if he picked up the pace just a little, he could make it to a narrow alleyway. His bag was big, but not enough that it would cause him any trouble. Once he found his way through there, he could wind his way back onto the main roads.

Tenma put a little extra kick in his step, turning the corner into the alley. It wasn’t exactly the safest or wisest path to take, but right now he had to get away from his tails. Tenma kept one hand firmly gripped onto his bag, almost expecting someone to jump him from the dark. 

No one did. Instead, a shadow detached itself from the wall much farther ahead, obstructing his path completely.

Tenma took a step backward, then another, then stopped, a cold feeling coursing through his veins.

_”What you really, definitely need to avoid is letting them herd you...if you can’t shake your tail, find someplace that you can stay, where others will see you. Stay in an open place. Don’t ever let them lead you away from a crowd. As soon as you’ve let that happen...as soon as you let yourself become cornered...it’s all over for you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was gonna finish on chapter 12 but it felt like I was wrapping up stuff too quickly. This chapter very quickly became Pining And Danger lmao...Tenma better get outta there!! And remember Grimmer's advice faster


	13. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re at the final stretch! Thanks for sticking with me all of you, tbh this was never meant to be a big thing it just became that….glad to see people interested in this story, I love Grimmer and am happy to share my weird strange very-headcanony story with you all.
> 
> No triggers this time! Just feelings.

Nails dug slightly into the sturdy strap of his bag as Tenma stood, waiting, watching, while rain continued to pelt around him. It had lightened a little, coming down softly in a mist, but he didn’t raise a hand to wipe his eyes. He didn’t dare make any move that could compromise himself in the face of these three men. He had absolutely no doubt they were working together, all three of them. They had ushered Tenma into a tight space, impossible to escape from if he was blocked in on both ends. A quick glance up gave him nothing to work with; there was no sturdy rail to grab, no fire escape, nothing he could get ahold of to move upward. 

Grimmer’s advice rang back in his ear too late for him to take it. He already _was_ cornered. But that didn’t have to mean he was helpless. He had tools. He could still try. Had to.

“What do you want.”

His voice sounded dulled in this place, absorbed by his surroundings. One of the three - the one that had blocked his exit - stepped forward. He was tall and well-built, with short black hair and a stoic face to rival Lunge’s. Tenma wanted to take a step back again, but he didn’t. He just squeezed the strap of his bag a little tighter.

“Drop the bag.”

Tenma did as he was asked, lowering the bag slowly to the ground, though he stayed beside it, guarded, unrelenting. Both hands were free, now.

“Good. Now slowly step away from it.”

At minimum, they wanted the evidence. And after that, what then? Would they kill him? They couldn’t let him go. He knew better than that. He knew too much. 

With a deep breath, Tenma squared his shoulders. He shook his head. With his back facing a wall, he let his gaze shift from side to side, from the...what he could only assume was the “leader” to the other two at the rear. His bangs hung in his face as he spoke.

“I’m a doctor.” he started, his voice calm. A little louder. He could hear himself speak. “I don’t want to make this a fight.”

“It’s _going_ to be a fight, doctor. Turn around. Hands flat on the wall. Now.”

Tenma could feel his heart racing. Still he didn’t move.

“I can incapacitate you. I know where and how I need to hurt you. Get out of my way.”

It was brave talk. It wasn’t a lie, but it was said in the hopes that his voice didn’t waver, that his knees weren’t quaking. He didn’t feel strong right now. He felt afraid and small. He wouldn’t be able to take them by surprise, and he wasn’t armed. All he had was a bluff that they didn’t seem to believe. Even if their leader did hesitate briefly, it wasn’t long-lasting. He signalled over his shoulder, a gesture that caused Tenma to turn. One of the two men behind him, the stouter of the two, had pulled a gun.

“And do you know how to disarm a man from that distance before he can take a shot, doctor? Turn. Hands on the wall. Now. This is the last time I ask you.”

He made another signal. It was the second man who pulled a gun this time, taking a shot squarely - _narrowly_ \- over Tenma’s shoulder. He visibly flinched, betraying whatever attempts at resistance he might have had to be false. There was no question, now; if he didn’t do as he was asked, he was going to be dead with a bullet in the back of his skull. 

Tension burned in his chest, but Tenma raised both hands, turning slowly so that he was facing away from all three men. Even just facing the other direction made his anxiousness spike; he couldn’t see them now, didn’t know what was going on as he walked toward the wall, placing his palms flat on wet brick. He tried to breathe slowly, tried to focus. He heard footsteps first, then the heavy sound of his bag being lifted. Tenma took a deep breath, then another. He turned his head just a little, slowly, trying to catch a glimpse over his shoulder.

“No, stop that. Face ahead. I’ll deal with you once the contents have been secured. If you’re holding onto anything I can _guarantee_ we’ll extract it from you.”

Tenma turned his face forward as asked, swallowing dryly. He considered what possibilities he had. If someone was securing his bag, there was a chance their numbers might dwindle to two. If he could somehow distract one of them, he might have a chance. But that was the _only_ chance. There was nothing else he could take advantage of, nothing around him to-

“Good. Take the bag and go. We’ll catch up once we’re finished here.”

 _Finished._ Tenma tried to brace himself, but he had no idea what was coming. Were they going to just shoot him from behind? Did they plan to ask him questions first? 

He could feel a presence behind him, could hear the soft splash of footsteps on the wet ground. Heard the unsettling click directly behind him, felt the muzzle of a gun shoved between his shoulder blades.

“You can feel that, right? Then you know if I want to, I can kill you in just under a second. I want you to tell me where your accomplice is. Yours are just copies, so where are the real ones? Where are the letters?”

In a different situation, Tenma might have laughed.

The irony, of course, was that he didn’t know. He had no idea where Grimmer was. But that wasn’t an answer they were going to accept. He thought for a moment, though he knew he didn’t have long. Tenma took a shaky breath.

“I-”

“What are you doing? I said to take the bag.”

“That’s..I...but this guy-- _ah--_ ”

There was a crack and a wet thud.

The sharp feeling digging into Tenma’s back faltered. Whatever was going on behind them had distracted his assailant. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Tenma drew a leg backward, sweeping as he turned away, taking his attacker’s balance from him just enough that Tenma was able to push away from the wall and, more importantly, away from the gun. He tripped over his feet as he made to dash, tumbling to his knees with a soft curse. His eyes shot up, glancing toward the man he’d dropped to the ground. He still hadn’t gotten to his feet yet, nursing a wound to the back of his head. He must have fallen harder than Tenma anticipated. 

Something grabbed Tenma’s arm and he flinched violently, rotating quickly to face the more prevalent threat, but he stopped when familiar blue eyes shone down on him. The hand loosened its grip immediately, barely touching him at all now.

“Get up. Quickly, now. We’re going to run, can you do that?”

Tenma swallowed, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he managed to stand and to nod.

Grimmer’s hold moved to his hand, an almost painful grip that pulled him along at a frenzied pace. Tenma’s lungs burned and his heart burned and he could barely keep up with Grimmer’s much longer strides. It felt like he was being pulled along blind, barely able to see past his messy hair. Belatedly he realized they hadn’t bothered to grab the bag. If those men were still there, they’d have what they came for regardless. Tenma didn’t dare try to speak up to voice his concern; all he could do now was breathe as he was halfway yanked along in a mad flee.

It came as a surprise when they finally did stop, and he felt himself collapse into the nearest solid surface, Grimmer reaching out to catch him. 

His grip was gentle, but still had a firmness to it, each hand holding a shoulder to keep him steady. Grimmer seemed to tower over him, something Tenma never noticed before. As he peered up through tired eyes, there was no sign of a smile. Only that frenzied, anxious look. And something that seemed almost surprised.

“Gunshot. I heard...and you were...Tenma…”

The grip on his shoulders tensed.

“What...were you _doing?_ Why are you here? You could have been...”

“Looking for you.”

His voice was just a little shrill. It sounded loud, certainly it brought Grimmer’s thoughts to a stop. Tenma took a few deep breaths, trying desperately, unsuccessfully, to slow his heart rate. He swallowed, shaking his head as he brought one hand up to push his hair from his face to get a good, proper look at Grimmer. He looked no better than Tenma felt.

“I came looking for you.”

There was silence then as Tenma seemed to wait for Grimmer and Grimmer seemed to wait for Tenma. When neither spoke, both cleared their throats, then hesitated, at least until Grimmer conceded to the good doctor. Tenma, in turn, opened his mouth, then paused, glancing over his shoulder, shifting a little closer to Grimmer.

“Are you sure that we…”

“Yes, we’ve definitely lost them. They lost track about a half hour ago, but I thought it best to keep us moving, just to be sure.”

Grimmer’s hands shifted, not quite releasing the doctor’s shoulders, though he could feel as he ran fingers along the woven pattern of his own sweater, now soaked through and clinging to Tenma. The taller man nodded, once more inviting Tenma to speak. This time he took it.

“I understand that this journey is personal for you. This is _your_ past, and no one but you has the absolute right to see it. You’ve been _allowing_ me to join you, but that’s it. So I understand...I understand and respect if you choose to go forward alone. But if that’s the choice that you want to make, then…” 

Tenma closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath to ease himself before he continued.

“If you’re going to do that, then at least let me say goodbye to you. Let me do this properly. And I’m sorry...I’m sorry that I kissed you. You were vulnerable. It wasn’t right. I want you to know I don’t expect anything from you, I just want-”

“None of those are the reasons that I left.”

Tenma stopped, blinking up at Grimmer. His hands had relaxed even more, resting idly against Tenma’s upper arms now. There was a faint bruise forming on his left shoulder from the grip that Grimmer had, but he didn’t mind, and Grimmer didn’t seem to notice.

“I lost control of Steiner. And because of that, you were hurt by me. You said that you understand the risks, that you accept them...but I...wasn’t willing to become that risk in the first place. I never want to do that to you again. So I decided it would be safest if I went on my own. And as for that kiss...”

One hand lifted from Tenma’s arm, cupping his cheek with such fine gentleness. Immediately, Tenma closed his eyes and tilted upward, his heart aflutter before it even happened. But it did, Grimmer drew him forward, pressing a firm, though not demanding, kiss to the doctor’s lips. It was not tentative, not an ask, but an _answer_ , one with certainty, the answer he hadn’t given on that night.

So then, he did..

Grimmer pulled him even closer, their foreheads meeting now in a calm embrace.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you to where I’ve been staying. Out of the cold. And we’ll talk. I’d like...to talk.”

* * *

Tenma felt just a little more at ease to be indoors.

Grimmer’s sweater was thoroughly soaked, though at least it didn’t seem to be damaged. If he left it to dry it’d probably be fine. Tenma fought his way out of it, trying to keep it from sticking to his undershirt with little success. When he finally managed to pull it up over his head he’d made a terrible mess of his hair, but at least he didn’t feel dap and cold any more. He bunched it into a ball, closing his eyes as he took a seat at the foot of the small bed. It was only just long enough for Grimmer to sleep on; Tenma couldn’t imagine he was very comfortable here.

Grimmer hadn’t said anything, busying himself brewing tea. That seemed appropriate, given the state of them both. His silence, though, was an invitation. Tenma took it.

“How exactly did you find me?”

There was a soft hum behind him.

“Like I said, I heard a gunshot. I wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but I was nearby, so I decided to check.” He chuckled softly. “Imagine my surprise when it was you I saw backed into a corner.”

“No, that’s….”

Tenma clasped his hands in his lap, looking down. His shoulders felt a little tense. Even now, that moment was fresh in his mind. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head.

“I suppose I’m wondering why you’re here. How you came to be here in the first place.”

It was quiet again, for just a moment. Grimmer circled around with tea, handing one to Tenma as he took his and plopped down in the only chair in the room.

“I’d been following a combination of a few things. I thought that I might be able to learn more about Herbert Behrman through his son. That led me here.”

Blue eyes flicked up, just a little colder than before, scrutinizing.

“But that begs the same of you. I think you must be following a similar path as me. I’m only wondering how it is you found this place. I assume you saw…?”

Tenma held his teacup carefully, shaking his head.

“I hadn’t gotten that far. Those men...I was trying to lose them. I never made it to the grave.”

There was another, lengthy pause. Only Grimmer’s eyes spoke, waiting for him to finish. _You didn’t answer my first question,_ they said. Tenma swallowed.

“I went to see Hartmann. He told me about what happened to the boy Behrman adopted. And he told me where to go. I don’t know if I believed him, but I thought I should see for myself.”

Grimmer’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. The look on his face was thoughtful, if a little confused.

“Then he told you more than he said to me. I find that interesting. Though I suppose he didn’t suspect we might encounter each other here. There was probably something he wanted to tell you. Though you were unfortunately sidetracked when you were attacked.”

Grimmer’s expression became serious again, and he took careful inventory of Tenma for the second time. His eyes lingered on the faintly reddish skin of his upper arm, and Tenma noticed the very slightest twitch of his companion’s thumb. Beyond that, though, he seemed satisfied that Tenma was unhurt. 

“I encountered two of those men myself a few days ago. In fact, I believe I might be the reason they were here. They’re quite persistent. And quite dangerous. They would definitely have killed you.”

Tenma nodded, turning away, not quite sheepish, but a little flustered all the same.

“They got what they wanted. In the confusion, I didn’t think to grab the bag.”

He wasn’t looking to see, but the sound of Grimmer’s sigh was markedly exasperated, and just a little bit fond.

“There was only one thing that mattered in that ugly scene. He’s sitting across from me right now.”

Tenma opened his mouth, then closed it with a chuckle. He took a sip of the tea he’d been holding all this while, relaxing as he let himself sit backward a little.

“Do you know...who they are?”

Unlikely, but he asked anyway. It sounded like Grimmer had dealt with them already. That was alarming, but not surprising; that he was here and seemed to be okay made the rest a foregone conclusion. Grimmer finished his tea in a large gulp - just a bit _too_ large, as he sat blinking awkwardly, clearing his throat once and rapping at his chest with one hand. Once he relaxed he resumed his attentions to Tenma.

“I have no way to be completely certain, not right now. But I think I might know. I believe you should know too, now. Or, you might if you had visited that place. It’s not much, for a grave. But I don’t suspect it was ever meant to honour his memory. After all, Herbert Behrman was a despicable man.”

That gave the doctor pause.

He blinked up at Grimmer, mouth slightly agape, halfway forming words of confusion though nothing was spoken. Grimmer was patient, waited for him to catch up with his mind. 

“I...was told that this was where the son had died. The boy he adopted.”

Grimmer hummed, nodding his understanding.

“Yes, that was something that seemed a bit odd to me. What Hartmann said to me...Edward, he said, was “lost”. I thought the same as you, that he had died. And I think, that to Hartmann, that’s exactly what happened. Though he’s not speaking of the death that you suspect. I believe, in fact, that those unsavoury sorts who have been trying very hard to erase Herbert Behrman are doing so under orders of that boy. Man, now, I should say.”

When Tenma just kept staring in bewilderment, Grimmer continued on.

“I only have speculation right now. There’s nothing I can say for sure. But I suppose you could say...I understand him, a little. That’s how it feels. The truth...and, the reason that Hartmann would insist Edward is ‘dead’, is that the boy murdered the man that raised him. Herbert Behrman was killed by the boy he attempted to mold into a suitable son.”

Grimmer fell silent, then, leaving Tenma to mull that over.

The place where Edward died...to say that Edward was “lost”...

To Hartmann, that boy had broken. Had become something other. Something he was never meant to be. The place that he “died”, then, was the place that he killed his “father”.

“I think that Edward wanted to destroy that person. Killing him wasn’t enough. More than anything he wants it to be that Herbert Behrman never existed. In order to become himself, he has to destroy the human being that tried to shape him. And unfortunately, we’ve gotten ourselves in the crossfire. He became aware of us because of a certain young detective...though, I can hardly fault him. The letters he acquired were valuable to me. It just happens, I believe, that they tipped certain unsavoury individuals off to our search.”

It seemed to be coming together. This...this was still speculative, most of it was based only on what Grimmer seemed to be projecting into this boy. But right now it was the only thing they had. And it meant, now, that they weren’t the only ones in danger. Suk, who had been the unintended tip, could still be at risk. And Gillen...Gillen was probably safe, but the fact was that he’d had a copy of one of Behrman’s books.

“I’ve already made arrangements with Suk. Besides the two of us, he’s probably the most at risk right now.”

Tenma looked up, then found himself chuckling into his tea.

That was it, then. Why Suk had seemed so cagey, so unusually sheepish around him. Those two...he knew, all along. He knew where Grimmer was going. In the end, Tenma never had the same bond that those two did; Suk had far more reason to pay a favour to Grimmer than to him.

“Which leaves this situation, I suppose. Doctor…”

Tenma squared his shoulders, setting his tea aside, now empty, and turning his undivided attention toward Grimmer. He had a fond look on his face, not quite the seriousness as before, but he was masking certain things, keeping them to himself. Tenma respected that privacy.

“You said that you came to find me so that you could say goodbye.” 

His voice was much softer now, much lower. Faintly a whisper.

“Is that all?”

Despite how gently Grimmer spoke, Tenma’s heart was pounding in his chest, almost as fast as when they had run through those rainy streets. He balled his hands into fists and shook his head firmly.

“I understand your perspective. I understand...I know that you don’t want to put me at risk. It’s not fair for me to force you into a position where you’re afraid you might hurt me. And if that’s still how you feel, now, I’ll respect that and I won’t follow you. But I also…” 

He trailed off, relaxing his hands and taking a deep breath.

“When you’re satisfied...and you feel safe...you said before that you’d like to have a picnic again. To go fishing. I want that. I want you to come home.”

That seemed to do it, to break Grimmer’s mask. 

The look on his face was...startled, to say the least. Almost alarmed or afraid. It was his turn to gape in bewilderment, blinking slowly in his confusion. Tenma stood, walking toward him, aware of the painful thudding in his chest. He stopped in front of Grimmer, reaching out a hand in invitation, a smile on his lips. Grimmer took it almost without thinking, standing with that same shocked look in his eyes, and something a little glassy.

“It’s hurt not to have you around. But I think, if you decide you want to do this alone...if you’ll tell me that you’ll be back, I could stand it then. That’s all I ask.”

Grimmer didn’t...say anything. He didn’t speak. He blinked a few times, taking a deep breath, stabilizing himself. Then, with a small gesture, he urged Tenma to turn, so that his back was to Grimmer’s chest. Grimmer put both arms around him, simply holding him like that. He could feel Grimmer breathing behind him, a relaxing rhythm. While nothing was said, he understood; Grimmer, too, had ached without him.

Tenma tilted his head as he felt Grimmer move behind him, nuzzling against the smaller man. There was the softest touch of lips to his neck, followed by a tighter squeeze from the man’s embrace. Tenma reached up with one hand, finding Grimmer’s face and tracing gently with his fingertips along his jaw. That was a deeply aching scar, one that wouldn’t fade quickly, but Tenma could at least...could offer small encouragement, assurance that he’d done no harm. Grimmer shifted in response, so that his nose now lightly grazed the doctor’s neck. He seemed to be content to stand like that, simply holding the doctor and breathing.

Eventually though he pulled back a little, so that he was just holding the doctor. Tenma turned, so that he was glancing backward at Grimmer, at the fond look in his eye.

“Herbert Behrman is dead. Unfortunately that means that a lot of the things I remembered...I’ll never really know how much of it is true. I missed my chance. There are things that I simply may never know about myself. About that place.”

“Then we’ll start over.” Tenma murmured, closing his eyes. “That man you called the Colonel. He could be alive.”

There was a moment of quiet between the two of them. Grimmer’s expression faded, returning to a relaxed neutral once more. He maneuvered Tenma around so that they were face to face once again, taking both of the doctor’s hands.

“I don’t think I want to.”

That came...just a little bit as a surprise. He opened his mouth, closing it again when Grimmer shook his head, indicating he wasn’t done just yet.

“I’ve remembered so much. More than I ever thought I would. It means that those memories are there, that they exist. But right now...I think...I want to look ahead. To keep moving forward. I’ve found things about myself...crucial information, things that might be able to help others and prevent something so horrible from ever repeating. That’s enough, I think. I don’t want to be burdened by my past. I can make new memories, here. Now. I can make important memories as Wolfgang Grimmer.”

He gave Tenma’s hands a light squeeze.

“There’s something else that I learned. Much more recently, in the last few days.”

Tenma looked up, catching Grimmer’s gaze with a curious tilt of his head and a flutter of his heart.

“A part of Wolfgang Grimmer didn’t come with me, when I left. I could feel something missing. I couldn’t quite put it into words, until now. You helped me recognize it. You said...that you want me to come 'home'. But...Doctor Tenma...”

His eyes were wet and mirthful. Beautiful and bright.

“ _You’re_ my home.”

It brought a glow to Tenma’s heart to hear it, and before he could really register thoughts, he had leaned forward and pressed his lips to Grimmer’s. A little tentative at first, then confident, lavishing, his arms wrapping around Grimmer tightly. Grimmer kissed him back just as deeply, just as wanting.

When they finally separated, Tenma could feel just a little trickle in his own eyes.

“And you’re mine.”

It wasn’t...over. Not completely. The two of them...Gillen, and Suk...even Lunge, if he delved too deeply...they were at risk. There was a man, trying desperately to destroy his own trauma. Someone still at large, who saw them as necessary casualties. They wouldn’t be safe, not for long. 

But for now…

For now they’d found home. And that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally complete..there was definitely more I could’ve done with it, but tbh I didn’t wanna drag this out _too_ long and I couldn’t really find ways to link the other ideas coherently. I may eventually come back to this with more stuff...I left enough ends hanging that I could if I wanted to?? There's totally a sequel here lmao. But I’mma call it done for now. Finally these 2 tired men can rest. 
> 
> This was a fun project for me to explore. It wasn't quite intended to really “answer” any of the questions about Grimmer’s past….not like, completely. Everything in his memories remains questionable in that it’s resurfaced from literally 3 decades ago and there’s no way to confirm if he’s remembering something true or not. Without Mr Urasawa giving us his background proper we’ll never know!! Mostly I just wanted to touch on some of the more popular headcanons as well as some of my own. And somehow that turned into 13 chapters lmao rip my life 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all again for reading! Hope you had fun with this one <3


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